


Divas and Deviants

by Jabberwocky (Sisterwives)



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F, Lesbian space fashion misfits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-08 06:31:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 50,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5487119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sisterwives/pseuds/Jabberwocky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tahirah Shepard'T'Soni has spent the last hundred years of her life working as an exotic dancer at Afterlife, but now she's ready to pursue her lifelong dream of becoming a fashion designer. Having landed an interview at a prestigious company, she packs all of her worldly possessions and moves to Illium, where she seeks to break into the industry. Along the way, she befriends an elcor and  a quarian and soon finds herself spearheading a wild scheme in the pursuit of life, liberty, and justice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Meet my NaNoWriMo 2015 project. I'll be posting a chapter every Monday and Friday as I finish editing it! While Shepard and Liara make very brief appearances, the focus of this is on their daughter's journey as she finds a place for herself in the galaxy.

“3, 2, 1… and I am off the clock! So long, Afterlife, this is Tahirah Shepard-T’Soni signing off for the very last time. Good night to you all, and goodbye!” Tahirah switched off her microphone and exited the stage to the sounds of good-natured applause. She was buzzing with adrenaline, purple tinging her flushed cheeks. She would miss the nightclub and the high she got from performing, but after a hundred years of dancing, she was excited to start a new chapter in her life.

Backstage, she changed out of the strappy little number she wore on the platform into an equally strappy cage dress; it covered more surface area but still accentuated her assets, and it was surprisingly comfy. It was one of her better pieces, she decided, having designed and sewn it herself, along with the majority of her wardrobe. She had a passion for fashion (as corny as the phrase was), and she was looking forward to realizing her childhood dreams of becoming a fashion designer. She just needed to finish tying up some loose ends.

“Tahirah!” shrieked a deep purple asari as soon as she stepped onto the club’s main floor. “Oh, I am going to _miss_ you--” she planted a smooch on her cheek, marking Tahirah’s blue skin with a white imprint of her lips (Tahirah had recommended a quality lip stain to her a thousand times -- it was the 2300s, there was no reason for her lipstick to rub off like that -- but Nissera enjoyed marking the things that she liked).

“I’m going to miss you too!” Tahirah laughed, hugging Nissera tightly.

“Yeahhhh,” came an unfortunately familiar voice from behind them. “Now make out!”

Tahirah grimaced at Nissera and turned around to face her least favorite human this side of Omega, a greasy-haired sleaze with personal boundary issues. He had been tossed out multiple times by the club’s elcor bouncer; Omega might only have had one rule, but “don’t fuck with Aria” extended to her girls too.

Nissera tittered politely (she still had a job to keep), but Tahirah was unamused.

“Come on, baby, how about a farewell lap dance?”

“Oh, sure...” Tahirah flashed him her biggest, most exaggerated fake smile and swung her fist up in the galactically recognized symbol for “up yours.” As much as she wanted to deck him, she wasn’t going to cause a scene inside the club and put her friend’s job at risk. But telling him to fuck off was a close second. “In your dreams!”

Nissera laughed out loud before she could stop herself, caught by surprise, and Tahirah gave her a genuine grin. “See you around, Nissera, I am out of here!”

With that, she sauntered off, leaving the human red-faced and sputtering behind her. Before she stepped through the club’s doors for the last time, she glanced up behind her, where she could see the Queen of Omega standing high above the rabble. Her arms were folded across her chest, and if Tahirah squinted, she thought she could see her lift her chin in recognition.

She waved, having said her proper goodbyes earlier, and blew a kiss. Aria had done so much for her in her time on Omega, being on very good terms with her father, and Tahirah had developed a soft spot for the callous Queen.

Her heart full of emotions, Tahirah Shepard-T’Soni took a deep breath and swept out of the club.

 

\---

 

There were a lot of things that Tahirah would miss about Omega. Sure, the asari name meant “The Heart of Evil,” but she loved the colorful characters (the ones who weren’t actively trying to kill her, that is), the shops in the Tuhi district, the sushi restaurant that she frequently ordered takeout from… but she wouldn’t miss the commute back to her apartment. Her apartment was just far enough from Afterlife that taking a shuttle would have been a waste of money, but after a long night on her feet, the last thing she wanted to do was walk the whole distance.

At least this was the last time she’d be doing that. She had already booked her ticket for the next ship off the station and, at this time tomorrow, she would be standing in the city of her dreams: Nos Astra. Growing up, she’d heard the tales -- her mother breaking into the world of information brokering, her father pushing bad guys out of windows and recruiting the legendary Thane Krios and Justicar Samara for a mission that would save the galaxy, the reunion of her parents after Shepard’s temporary death… Nos Astra meant a lot to her family, and she had the feeling that it would change her life too.

A vorcha hissed at her as she passed a narrow alley, and she summed up a sphere of biotic energy, letting it hum above her hand in case she needed to use it. With her free hand, she called up her omni-tool, speaking directly into the holographic interface to call her father. Audio only, of course, she’d seen enough PSAs about the dangers of vidchatting on the go to know that it wasn’t a good idea -- especially not on Omega, when she needed to keep a sharp eye out for any dangerous individuals.

“Hi Daddy,” she gushed the moment her father answered. “Guess what? You’re going to be so proud of me.”

“You know I’m always proud of you, Tahirah.” She could hear the grin in Shepard’s voice, and it made Tahirah smile, heart brimming with affection. “What did you do now? ”

“Well, first of all, remember that creepy guy who always makes really gross comments? I finally flipped him off.”

“Hah! Did you tell him to eat your entire ass?”

Tahirah giggled. “No, but I wish I had!”

“It’s a great conversation ender, you should try it sometime. What made you crack? I thought you were holding back for the sake of your job?”

“That’s the other reason why you’ll be proud of me.” Tahirah drew in a deep breath. “I quit my job.”

There was a moment of silence. “Oh thank god. So Miranda and I can celebrate our 225th birthday party at Afterlife without it being weird and creepy, is that what you’re saying?”

“Dad! No.”

“I’m kidding! Seriously, what made you quit? I thought you liked your job -- not that I’m complaining about you leaving it, I always thought you could shine better elsewhere.”

“Well, you know I hit my 100 year anniversary last week, and I figured that that was as good a time as any. I love dancing, but not enough to make a career out of it, you know? I want to be a fashion designer. It’s my calling.”

”I knew it. When you started making clothes for your dolls, what, 140 years ago?, I distinctly remember telling your mom that you were gonna grow up and be a fashionista.”  

“Yeah, so I started applying for internships and jobs off-world and...” Tahirah took a brief minute to compose herself, a grin of delight stretching across her face. “I didn’t want to say anything until I knew I got it, but I have an interview with T’Lani.”

“Who?”

“Oh my goddess. Not ‘who,’ ‘what’ -- you know, one of the biggest high fashion lines ever? They make one of a kind dresses that cost at least 100,000 credits and are totally impractical but so gorgeous?”

“Yeah, I got nothing.”

Tahirah was, in a word, shocked. And appalled. “It’s like… Chanel? Gaultier? Arterix? Muraci?”

“I literally don’t know what language you’re even speaking right now.”

Tahirah rolled her eyes and side-skirted someone who was classily vomiting in the middle of the streets. “It’s kind of a big deal, that’s all you need to know.”

“Big deal, gotcha.” Shepard laughed, her voice crackling over the line. “I don’t know shit about this kind of stuff, Tahirah, but I’m really proud of you. It’s not easy, getting an interview. Especially at a fancy place like… what was it, Tupari?”

“ _T’Lani._ And no, it wasn’t easy! It’s _such_ a competitive market -- I just hope it pans out. And even if it doesn’t, well… I’m moving to Nos Astra, on Illium. Fashion capital of the Crescent Nebula. Mom said she’d get me an apartment and everything, so I’m bound to find something eventually, right?”

“They’ll hire you. I’ll kick their asses if they don’t. I will literally go to Illium for the express purpose of kicking their asses. No one messes with my girls.”

It was Tahirah’s turn to laugh, touched by the threat. She had no doubt that it was true. “Thanks, Daddy, but this is my battle. I’m leaving Omega tomorrow -- it’s time for a new adventure.”

“And it’ll be a great one,” Shepard answered, nostalgia tinging her voice.

Tahirah said her goodbyes and hung up, giddier than she could remember being in a long time. She quickened her pace until she reached her apartment building. She trotted up the five flights of stairs one last time, heels clanging against the metal steps.

It was hard to believe that she would be leaving behind the apartment that had belonged to her for almost sixty years. She had lived with friends for a long time, and she’d enjoyed her time with Nissera and two other dancers who left the business a long time ago. But when she turned 100, she decided it was time to be a proper adult and attempt to hack it on her own.

It was a small studio, not to mention cramped, since she devoted more space to her fashion hobby than to her actual living quarters. Bins upon bins of sewing supplies and materials were stacked to the ceiling, plastic asari heads for makeup testing and mannequins in various states of dress were scattered around the room, and swatches of fabric were draped over every available surface. Lacking a proper desk, her kitchen table had become  her sewing station. The machine and her works in progress covered the majority of the table, so she had gotten in the habit of eating on her bed, which was tucked away in a corner like a mere afterthought.

She was looking forward to a new, bigger (and fancier, hopefully -- if Omega was the seedy side alley of the galaxy, Illium was its glamorous hotel) apartment, but mostly she was looking forward to an office of her own. A whole room dedicated to nothing but her craft -- but she didn’t want to get her hopes up... not just yet.

Instead, she cleared off the seat of her vanity and sat down to start removing the night’s makeup. She wiped off the lipstick she had so carefully applied hours ago, with her characteristic V of naked skin peeking through her purple painted lips. As she scrubbed off the matching eyeshadow, she touched her white scalp.  She supposed it was time to let it go back to its natural blue, which was just was well, because the upkeep was a pain -- it was tiresome bleaching it every month or so.

Tahirah stared at her bare face, a clean slate apart from the light blue splotches of freckles and thick, squared off markings above her eyes that so strongly resembled her father’s distinctive eyebrows. All at once, she was exhausted --it had been a long night-- but sleep would have to wait; she had too much to do to prepare for her trip tomorrow.

She glanced around the cluttered apartment. For starters, she needed to pack.

 

\---

 

    “Yes… yes, my apartment is 26A. Just leave everything inside, I’ll take it from there. Whenever I get there....”

Tahirah was slightly frazzled. Public transit to another planet was not exactly the most fun way to travel, and it didn’t help that her cargo was traveling separately. She was entering a new planet, by herself, with nothing on her person besides her credit chit and omni-tool, while all of her worldly possessions were in the hands of a moving team. She’d spent most of the journey to Illium on her omni-tool to various people -- her mother, making sure all the apartment affairs were in order; the landlord, fighting to get him to electronically send her the virtual key to the apartment so that she didn’t have to hunt him down when she arrived; the moving company, providing them with instructions about how to handle her more delicate belongings (if she arrived to a broken sewing machine, she _would_ demand financial restitution).

Now, she hung up and took the time to actually survey her surroundings. She’d made it through security in one piece, and now-- she had no idea where to go next. The possibilities were overwhelming. Nos Astra. The site of so many important historical events, like the origination of the post-Reaper-War punk revival movement, and the home of the company responsible for making the dress Councilor Irissa wore during her swearing-in. It made her a little misty-eyed.

Remembering her mother’s suggestion, Tahirah’s eyes landed on one of the concierges welcoming visitors to Nos Astra. She was an attractive asari, the tips of her pale purple crest dyed hot pink, the distinctive style favored by the lead singer of Varrencage. Maybe that was what made Tahirah gravitate towards her, because it definitely wasn’t the dress she was wearing. _That_ was an unfortunate choice on her part.

She didn’t necessarily _mind_ pleather when it was done well, but this was an atrocity. It looked like a trash bag that had been shrink wrapped to the contours of her body. Actually, it pretty strongly reminded her of a picture that she and her sister had always laughed at when they were growing up. It was of the one dress she had ever seen her father wear: a horrendous fashion disaster of a Little Black Dress that Shepard had been forced into wearing for some top secret mission to break into an arms dealer/art collector’s private vault. Her discomfort was clearly evident; Shepard was much more a “leather jacket and nice jeans” kind of dresser when she needed to look snappy for events.

“Hi, welcome to Nos Astra,” the concierge chirped, and Tahirah’s eyes flew up to meet hers, momentarily feeling guilty for being caught staring. “Are you visiting today?”

“No, actually, I’m moving here! And I could actually use your help… I’m looking for the Elysandre Apartments complex?”

“Well congratulations, welcome to the city! It’s an exciting place for a maiden to live. I’m sure you’ll thrive here. The Elysandre Apartments are right near an excellent strip of shops, and a restaurant that makes calamari that tastes like it’s straight from Armali.”

Tahirah beamed at her, suddenly feeling much better about her prospects in the new city. “Well, I never say no to a bite of calamari, or shopping! I have a holo-map, but I’m so turned around right now. Can you at least let me know what direction to head in?” It was reassuring to speak with a friendly face, even if the person in question _did_ have appalling taste in fashion.

“It can be daunting, especially since it’s such a big city, but I promise you’ll be able to find your way around in no time at all,” the concierge assured her, before giving her detailed instructions to finding her new home.

“Thank you so much for your help,” Tahirah gushed, turning to head in the direction she pointed in. She made it a few paces away before whirling back around, incapable of keeping her mouth shut any longer. “Okay, sorry, it’s going to bother me if I don’t say anything. You would look _so much better_ in literally anything but that. I’d recommend something with a nice boat or cowl neckline and a wide hem to balance out those gorgeous hips.” The words spilled out of her in a veritable fountain of words. “And please ditch the plastic, no one in this galaxy can make that fabric look good, okay thank you bye!” She ducked into a throng of tourists, leaving the concierge blinking after her in mild bemusement.

Tahirah emerged from the other side, straightening out the hem of her dress and glancing at her reflection in a nearby shop window to make sure she was still put-together. “Glad I got that off my chest,” she said aloud, more to herself than to any of the strangers around her.

“Hah!” She turned to find the source of the short bark of laughter and found a clearly inebriated turian swaying nearby. “I’ve got something else you can get off on your chest,” he slurred, leering at her cleavage.

Tahirah considered her chest one of her best features (she never got to meet Grandma Benezia, but family photos confirmed that she’d inherited her bosom), and she’d dressed to highlight that feature, curved lines enhancing the bustline and a strategically placed window showing off her assets. She didn’t mind people checking her out or finding her sexually appealing as a result, but she _did_ have a problem with strangers making gross, objectifying comments about how they wanted to treat her like a blowup sex doll.

“I don’t think so,” she said calmly, then swung her fist up in a biotically-charged uppercut that sent him staggering backwards. She put him into stasis and bolted, tottering off as fast as she could in her four-inch heels.

This wasn’t exactly the start she wanted for her first day on a new planet.

She pushed past a family of krogan and ducked behind a kiosk.

“Can I… help you?” the merchant asked, clearly confused.

“Yeah, just, let me hide here for a few seconds,” she managed between pants. She peeked over the display and saw the turian complaining to a police officer, a female turian with the longest, most elegant mandibles she’d ever seen. Caught off guard by her striking beauty, Tahirah admired her for a few seconds too long -- her harasser pointed in her direction, and the officer turned her head and locked eyes with her.

Tahirah blanched and took off running again, trying to remember the concierge’s directions as she weaved her way through shoppers. Her heels only hobbled her, however, and she took a split- second to slip them off and carry them in her hand. She vowed to someday design a line of fashionable, heeled shoes that were built for running.

When she finally dared to glance over her shoulder, she couldn’t see any pursuers, and she slowed down to a brisk walk. She was beginning to think that she might _not_ be charged with assault and battery on her first day in her new city, which was great, because she had no idea how she’d explain that one away.

Tahirah arrived at the apartment complex, barefoot with dirty soles, but more or less in one piece. She thanked the goddess for elevators, because there was no way she was climbing 25 flights of stairs, especially not after that wild chase.

“Please let everything be there,” she muttered to herself as she swiped into apartment 26A. The door swung open to reveal a surprisingly spacious setup (and it was furnished! She made a mental reminder to thank her mother) -- but then again, her standards were low. Her kitchen, bedroom, and living space were all in separate rooms, which was a very welcome change from her place in Omega.

Much to her relief, it seemed like everything she possessed was present, although she would need to go through her belongings to be sure. In all honesty, after getting very little sleep due to a combination of late night packing and pre-move jitters, she just wanted to collapse on the squashy gwaskin-upholstered couch and nap.

But that wasn't the responsible thing to do. She heaved a massive sigh and, summoning up all of her mental strength, levitated one of her fabric bins into the air. At least she had biotics to save her the physical exertion.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, everyone!!

Tahirah was usually a confident person, possessing the self-esteem of someone who had gone through life excelling at most everything she did. But today, she was nervous. Horribly, cripplingly nervous. With most of her ventures, it didn't matter whether or not she succeeded, and that laissez-faire attitude worked in her favor.

This time, it _did_ matter. This interview was her make it or break it moment; if she nailed it, her fashion career would officially begin. If she bombed it, she would back to square one: no job, no contacts, and no prospects.

She practiced her elevator pitch on the ride down to the lobby, remembering the advice of her favorite childhood teacher, Matriarch Illana: “You should be able to sell yourself to your interviewer in the time it takes to ride an elevator on the Citadel.”

She was too nervous to sit still in a skycar to the T’Lani headquarters, so she gave herself an hour’s time to walk there. She didn’t drop 10,000 credits on these comfy shoes (tagline: these heels are made for walking) for nothing.

The waiting lounge of the T’Lani building was disgustingly intimidating, all sleek elegance and polished lines. Tahirah was irrationally afraid that she'd dirty the alabaster benches that lined the marble walls, with their two-story, floor-to-ceiling windows. Instead of sitting and potentially ruining the gleaming white seats (how, she had no idea; it wasn't like the fabric of her dress would rub off on it, but fear was rarely rational), she stood around awkwardly, clutching her portfolio until the receptionist called her name.

She took a deep breath to steady herself, plastered on a winning smile, and swept into the conference room like she belonged there.

“Tahirah Shepard-T’Soni, I presume?” asked an asari with skin like midnight, her coloring such a deep blue that it was nearly black. She looked powerful in a colorblocked, tailored blazer, the high silver collar and side panels contrasting with the jet black fabric. The fitted sleeves and military style buttons accentuated the blazer’s handkerchief hemline, and pairing it with those  black cigarette pants and corset heels was a stroke of genius.

Tahirah was, for the first time in her life, literally struck speechless. She hadn't expected to be interviewed by Nataliya T’Lani herself. It was hard to look her idol in the eye -- not only were her features strikingly beautiful, with that strong nose and full lips, but she was also known for her dramatic makeup, color coordinated with her outfits. Today, it was a silver to black ombre on her lips and a sharp black and white wingtip eyeliner that somehow managed to work with the rhinestones that radiated out around her eyes, an improvisational eyeshadow that made her look even more like the night sky.

The wind left Tahirah’s sails as she struggled to regain her voice. Finally recovering, she managed another dazzling smile. “Yes, that's me. It’s an honor to meet you.” She offered her hand in greeting, only to drop it when it was immediately clear that her interviewer wasn't going to shake it.

Peering over her glowing visor, T’Lani swept her eyes down the length of her frame, from her bleached scalp to the toes of her kitten heel pumps. Tahirah had opted to dress professionally today, in a conservative shift dress with bold black trim and a contrasting center panel to give it that _Tahirah_ feel and say, “I’m stylish _and_ classy! You should hire me!”

“Charmed, I'm sure.” T’Lani’s eyes flicked down to her datapad, and she scrolled through Tahirah’s portfolio “Your designs are rather impressive.”

Tahirah glowed with pride. “Thank you,” she said, trying not to sound as gratified as she felt. “I have some physical sketches and samples of fabric and my stitchwork...”

“Yes, yes, we’ll get to that.” T’Lani waved her manicured hand, as if literally brushing away the comments, and motioned for her to sit.

Tahirah obediently sat down in a plush chair and looked up at her idol, still a little starstruck.

“You can start by telling me about your experience with fashion. Your resume indicates that you haven’t worked in the industry before, so what makes you qualified to work with us? I could hire someone who has every ounce of technical skill and creativity as you, but has worked in the field for a century. Tell me why I shouldn’t just trash your portfolio and do just that.” T’Lani perched on the edge of the conference table, crossing her legs.

“It’s true that I don’t have any actual experience working with a fashion line before, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have experience at all. I’ve been sewing for over a hundred years. I’ve always loved fashion. I started altering my clothes when I was 40 and going through that awkward ‘trying to become popular’ phase in school.” She stopped when T’Lani gave a dainty yawn and affixed her with a stare of utmost boredom.

“Yes, I’ve heard this story before. You love fashion, you make all your own clothes, you’re an amateur designer. You and every other person that comes in and out of these doors.”

Tahirah swallowed and continued. “I’m not _just_ an amateur though. I designed new outfits for my team at my previous job, which brought our revenue up 20%.”

That seemed to catch T’Lani’s interest. “I don’t think I saw that in your portfolio. Tell me more about that.”

Tahirah relaxed a little at the question -- this was something familiar that she could talk about with ease. “Well, I used to work at Afterlife, a nightclub on Omega. I assessed the demographics of the clientele and used that data to create outfits that appeal to the tastes of the patrons and are way more attractive than the old bodysuits we used to wear. I designed the outfit and personally sewed twenty versions of it, each of them tailored to the exact dimensions of the dancers. Your company is all about one-of-a-kind outfits made for the person wearing them, and I know all about customizing a design to flatter the model. Here, I know I have a copy of the original and final sketches, and a picture of the final product...” She leafed through her portfolio and pulled out the sketches, clipped to a very tasteful image of her and Nissera modeling the outfit onstage.

T’Lani took the images, and her initial interest quickly turned to a sneer of derision as she flicked through the pages.

Tahirah’s heart sank to the pit of her stomach so quickly that she was afraid she’d throw up. “This obviously isn’t representative of my usual work,” she began, “but it shows that I can serve any kind of client. I made all those dresses in my portfolio because they fit my aesthetic, but I can go outside that box and do things that are leagues different than the same cookie cutter outfits made by all those other candidates. I can do one-of-a-kind, and I can make the perfect outfit for the right person.”

She couldn’t tell if T’Lani was moved by this speech or not. “You were a dancer at Afterlife, then?” she said, tapping the photo with one long nail.

“Well, yes...” Tahirah hesitated. “But I don’t understand why my previous career would be a problem. I’m certainly not the first asari who got her start as a dancer.”

“You see, our brand caters to more elite members of society. There’s no place in high fashion for someone who gyrated on a pole for a living.”

Tahirah knew she was gaping, but she found it impossible to regain her poise.

T’Lani flipped through the sketches, barely even looking at the designs. “I’m sorry to say that I can’t let my name be tarnished with such… tawdry rags. Perhaps you’d be better off serving the rest of the little people.” She tossed the papers back on the table, where they slid to a stop in front of Tahirah. “I have to say that it’s inspiring, though. How you managed to find time to draft these up in between shaking your ass in strangers’ faces.”

She found her voice again and stood up. “Little people? Who the hell do you think you are?” She grabbed her sketches and stuffed them back in her portfolio. “First of all, you didn’t think they were tawdry when you asked me for an interview. Second of all, yeah, you know what? It is damn impressive that I made all of these in between shifts. I worked forty hours a week doing an honest job and still managed to produce quality content in my spare time, and I don’t need you to devalue the kind of work I did. It has nothing to do with the quality of my designs, which were clearly good enough for you to want me to come in for an interview. So you can take your job and shove it up your azure, T’Lani!”

With that, she stormed out of the room, portfolio tucked under her arm and angry tears stinging her eyes. T’Lani was every moneyed, snooty asari from private school, and she was done playing nice with her.

And yet, the rejection _hurt_. As much as she tried to tell herself that T’Lani wasn’t worth it, that it was just some stuck-up fashion company, the fact remained that it had been her style icon for her entire life. She’d dreamed of meeting the head of the company since she was a kid. And she hated that she wasn’t good enough for them. It wouldn’t have been so crushing if T’Lani didn’t think she was talented enough, or hated the outfits she designed -- then, there was always the glimmer of hope that she could improve, and the knowledge that she had justly failed. She would rather have been told that she wasn’t good enough than rejected purely because of her previous lifestyle choices.

Bitter tears blurred her vision and made it hard for her to see where she was going, but she knew that she needed to escape as quickly as possible. The instant the elevator doors opened on the first floor, she rushed out into the lobby--

\--and promptly crashed into someone.

“Keelah!”

“Oh goddess, I’m sorry!” Tahirah cried, rubbing her eyes with her forearm and blinking so she could see clearly. She had ran headlong into a tall quarian carrying a tray full of beverages, spilling iced coffee over the both of them. “I am _so_ sorry, it’s been an awful day, I wasn’t looking where I was going, I promise I’ll buy you new coffees...” She babbled like a wreck until the quarian held up a placating hand.

“It’s fine, I promise.” She unwrapped two of the scraps of cloth wound around her leg and used one to soak up the coffee that was running down her enviro suit. She offered the second one to Tahirah, who gratefully dabbed at the front of her dress. “I’m sorry you… had a rough interview?”

“Yeah, how did you know?” Tahirah asked.

“You’re not the first person they’ve interviewed,” the quarian answered, voice sounding rueful even through the filter of her orange tinted mask.

“Oh.” Well, it made Tahirah at least slightly more happy to know that she wasn’t the only one reduced to tears after a disastrous interview. “Do you work here then?” She bent down to sop up the mess on the floor.

The quarian hesitated, and Tahirah cast her a quizzical glance. “I guess that’s one term for it, yeah.”

Well, _now_ she needed to know more. “What do you mean?” she asked, trying and failing to hide her curiosity.

“It’s not something I can really talk about here,” the quarian said, evasive as she furtively glanced around the lobby.

Tahirah had always been a hopeless gossip, and that was too juicy a comment to let go. She stood up and passed over the sodden strip of cloth.  “Well then, can I buy you a drink? Replace those coffees to apologize for spilling all your stuff and ruining your clothing?”

The quarian contemplated the question as she took the wet fabric, folded it into quarters, and sealed it in an external compartment of her suit. “You know what?” she finally said, a note of determination in her voice. “Yeah, I’d love to.” She dumped the empty tray into what Tahirah thought was a sculpture but _apparently_ was a garbage can. “No one’s going to miss me. They might miss their coffee, but they won’t miss me. And even if they do notice, what’s the worst they can do?”

“Yeah!” Tahirah clapped, suddenly in a much better mood than she was ten minutes ago. “That’s the spirit!”

“Just one caveat…” the quarian said as they walked towards the door. “Can it be at a bar?”

“At noon?”

“I mean, it doesn’t have to be!” she quickly backpedalled. “Just, I sympathize with you on the ‘life is shitty’ front, and I figured if I could use a drink at this point of the day, you could too. Sorry, I know I probably sound like an alcoholic.”

“Day drinking doesn't make you an alcoholic,” Tahirah said, holding the door open for her new friend. “And even if you were, I'm the last person who would care. My father is probably the most famous alcoholic in the galaxy. But that's a story for another time. I was just rejected by my hero in the most humiliating way possible, and I left my well-paying job to move to a new planet where I apparently have no future. I need a stiff drink. Got a good recommendation for a newcomer-- oh my god, I'm so rude, I don't even know your name and I'm already taking you out for drinks.” She stopped in the middle of the street and held out her hand. “I'm Tahirah. Tahirah Shepard-T’Soni.”

If the quarian recognized the name, she tactfully chose not to mention it and instead shook her proffered hand, three long digits awkwardly closing around her five fingers. “Zero’Tenn nar Lunae.”

“Oh, thank god,” Tahirah said, clutching her heart. “I was afraid no one in Nos Astra shook hands.”

Zero laughed. “Those of us that aren’t cutthroat bitches still do, yeah. Don’t be offended, I’ve never seen T’Lani shake anyone’s hand before. _Anyone’s_. Down here,” she added, motioning to a set of stairs that led to a below-street-level bar that was so well hidden that Tahirah would have otherwise missed it entirely. She glanced up at the neon sign, glowing purple letters spelling out the name _Invictus_ , as they ducked inside. The bar was dark, a harsh change from the bright midday light outside, and it took Tahirah’s eyes a few moments to adjust. When they were acclimated to the shift in environment, she could read the red and blue signs posted around the bar: “We serve both dextro and levo alcohol.”

“Blue cups for levo, red for dextro,” Zero explained, noticing her gaze. “I usually come here after work, if it’s still open.” They sat down at the bar, and Zero beckoned over a turian bartender. “Triple filtered horosk, neat.”

“Hit me with a Full Biotic Kick,” Tahirah told him before turning back to Zero. “Yeah, what’s your story, anyway?”

Zero sighed. “I ‘work’ for T’Lani.” She raised her fingers and bent them into air quotes. “Usually about fifteen hours a day. Unpaid. T’Lani hasn’t touched a needle since she ‘hired’ me, because I’m good for nothing but slave labor. Needless to say, this wasn’t what I signed up for, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m going to spend the rest of my life fetching coffee and rubbing T’Lani’s feet and going without sleep for three days in a row to finish a collection before it debuts on the runway.” She laughed, a bitter sound that was completely devoid of humor.

“What the fuck.” Tahirah could not think of a more articulate way to express the sentiment of shock and disgust that hit her with the full force of a charging krogan. “Didn't Illium outlaw slavery, or indentured servitude, or whatever you want to call it, fifty years ago?”

“Yeah. But you asari are so… long-minded. I mean, that might as well have been yesterday to a matriarch who had slaves for 500 years.”

“Fair point.”  Tahirah accepted her drink from the bartender. She couldn’t be insulted; it was true.

“Technically I’m not an indentured servant anyway, I’m an ‘unpaid intern.’”

This time, Tahirah was ready to do the air quotes along with her, much to Zero’s amusement. “Nice,” she said, graciously recognizing her abuse of the gesture. “But that’s just the term they use to fly under the radar. I’m not just fawning over T’Lani, I’m making clothes for her. That’s not intern work, that’s paid employee work. The hours I work are not legal intern hours.”

Tahirah nodded. Having studied history of fashion, she knew that historically, many fashion houses came under fire for exploiting interns for free, dehumanizing labor. After multiple reports of interns dying, strict laws governing internships were created. The life that Zero was living was not a legitimate internship in any way, shape, or form.

If I’m being brutally honest?” Zero continued. “Yeah, slavery. I’m gonna die as a slave, and there’s nothing I can do about it, because if I ‘quit,’ she’ll destroy me.”

“Goddess, I had no idea… I idolized this company for, oh, as long as I can remember. I remember being a kid and watching every annual fashion show, _dreaming_ of the day where I could wear a T’Lani dress. Getting this interview was literally the best moment of my life. And now that I’m here, I met Nataliya T’Lani… and she’s horrible! She’s a horrible, slave-owning monster!”

“Cheers to that.” Zero held up her glass and Tahirah met her halfway, red clinking against blue.

“It’s like I don’t even know what to think anymore. I can’t wrap my mind around the fact that she’s so unpleasant, never mind the fact that she’s doing something so… so illegal!” Tahirah could understand grey morality. If there was one thing she learned as the daughter of Commander Shepard, it was that good people could do terrible things for all the right reasons, and that breaking the law could be justified sometimes.

But she couldn’t imagine a reason that could justify this particular level of heinousness. Indentured servitude was a part of Illium’s history, sure, but when it was legal, it was never supposed to be this… _awful_. The contract holder was supposed to be responsible for their servants’ well-being and to stick to predetermined duties that were agreed upon before the contract signing. From what it sounded like, Zero wasn’t being taken care of physically or mentally, _and_ she was being forced to do tasks that deviated from expectations.

“Don’t think,” Zero told her, sticking the straw between the slots of her mask’s mouthpiece. “Just drink.”

“Good motto. You’d get along with my dad.” Tahirah shelved her anxieties to deal with later and sucked down half of her drink. She needed to change the topic; talking about T’Lani only brought them down. “Can’t you take your mask off to drink that?” she asked. “Quarians have been back on Rannoch since before I was born, I thought you guys were a little less sick all the time now.”

“Since before you were born? How old _are_ you?”

“160,” Tahirah answered, matter of fact as she smacked her lips around her straw.

“Keelah.” Zero shook her head, mystified by the length of asari lifespans. “Yeah, well, I’m from Lunae.”

Tahirah stared blankly at her.

“...The entire clan that was exiled?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t really pay attention to quarian history in school,” she confessed. “I was more interested in asari and human history, and after I started specializing in history of fashion, I didn’t care about anything else.”

“Well, long story short, my clan still lives on ships. We’re not welcome back on our homeworld, so I’ve never set foot on Rannoch, let alone spent much time out of my suit.”

Tahirah furrowed her brow. “That’s terrible! Why are you still being punished for something your ancestors did?”

Zero took a long draught from her glass of horosk. “Honestly, I don’t care. That’s what a lot of us think -- no one who was actually involved in betraying the Fleet is still alive, but we’re still punished for it. Society is a bitch. I say, forget what my ancestors did. I’ve already done something more offensive myself by abandoning my ship. I went on my pilgrimage and never came back, because how could I go back to the same cramped vessel after seeing everything else that the galaxy has to offer? I’ll take freedom over loyalty to my race any day.” She sighed, and it sounded sadder than anything Tahirah had ever heard. “And then I ended up on Illium and got suckered into this ‘job’ to avoid going to jail for being a vagrant, and there goes that freedom. I never asked for this. It was an ultimatum.”

The bourbon was starting to hit Tahirah, and she felt a surge of sympathy for this poor quarian. Not getting her dream job suddenly seemed inconsequential. She set her glass down on the countertop and took Zero’s hands in her own. “Zero,” she said, pouring her heart into her words. “I promise you that no matter what, I will help you get your freedom back.”

Zero squeezed her hands gratefully. “That’s very sweet of you. Thank you, but I doubt there’s much you can do to help.”

“Can’t you like… go to the police at least? I mean, this is illegal.” Zero cocked her head at her, and Tahirah had the distinct impression that she was casting her an “are you serious?” look. “No, you’re right,” she conceded. “Stupid idea.”

“No one would believe a suit rat over Nataliya T’Lani.”

It was a valid point.

Zero drained the rest of her drink, but a split second after setting her empty glass down, she let out a small yelp of pain and clutched her ankle.

Concerned, Tahirah reached out to her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, it’s just...” Zero let out a whoosh of air. “I have an ankle monitor on. They must have noticed that I’m not there, because I just got shocked.”

Outraged, Tahirah’s jaw dropped open. “ _What_? Like you’re some kind of animal? That cruel bitch--”

“Believe me, I know. But I got to get back there before they trace me here. I really don’t want to go through the hassle of security bringing me in, and you’re a nice girl, so I _really_ don’t want to get you involved in it either.”

Tahirah waved off the comment. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll take care of paying, you just get back there. And listen-- I need to figure out what I’m doing with my life from here on out, but we should do this again. You’re the first person I’ve met here who’s actually interested in talking to me.”

She was pretty sure she saw the shadow of Zero’s eyes behind her mask crinkle into a smile. “We will do this again. Here, my number...” She quickly pulled up her omni-tool’s holographic interface and transferred her digits into the omni-tool bracelet that Tahirah wore around her wrist.

“Good luck!” Tahirah called out as Zero headed for the door, and the quarian raised a hand up in a final farewell.

\---

When Tahirah arrived back in her apartment, she flew into a whirlwind of activity and finished unpacking her belongings.When she was finally pleased with the arrangement of things, she attempted something that sh’e had never had the patience for: meditation.

She needed a game plan.

After a few hours of failed attempts to sit still and restless pacing around the apartment, she finally succeeded in sitting still long enough to contemplate her situation. She hovered a few inches off the ground, hands resting on her knees. By expending most of her energy on levitation, she was able to empty her mind enough to focus solely on resolving her problems.

Yes, this was not the outcome she had foreseen. Yes, she was all by herself in a new city with no job prospects, but she wasn't _alone._ She had a friend now, and she was determined not to give up on her dream. It might take longer than she initially anticipated, but one day, she _would_ have her own line of high fashion dresses. She _would_ make a name for herself. She wasn't going to be Tahirah Shepard-T’Soni: wild child daughter of the galaxy’s heroes. She was going to be Tahirah Shepard-T’Soni: fashion designer extraordinaire.

She just needed to work from the ground up. With a few well-placed calls (to her mother, but still), she could rent a small office and use it as a studio. She had plenty of designs that she hadn’t been able to realize when living on Omega, and now was as good a time as any to turn them into a reality. If she could sew enough dresses, find a venue and models, and publicize the shit out of her name, she could _definitely_ host her own fashion show.

She ended up drifting off into an elaborate fantasy about designing outfits for Varrencage at the Galactic Video Music Awards. She wouldn’t be _T’Lani by Tahirah,_ she would be _Tahirah Benezia_ , hottest new name in the world of haute couture.

Some part of her knew that it was a pipe dream, but she was stubborn and confident, a dangerous combination. She opened her eyes, determination glinting from within, and let herself return to the ground.

She could do this. She could _totally_ do this.


	3. Chapter 3

Tahirah had always dreamed about having her own studio. All her life, she’d sewed in spaces designed for other purposes -- her bedroom, the kitchen table, school (she wasn’t the “problem child,” that honor was reserved for her sister, Cassiopeia, but when she _did_ get in trouble, it was almost always for hand-sewing during lessons). She had longed for a room that she could dedicate solely to her craft, with walls of fabric and giant windows to give her plenty of natural light to work by, a pristine sewing station, and a combination desk and drafting table where she could sketch new designs with ease.

So far, all she had was the fabric -- bins upon bins stacked along the far side of the office room she was transforming into a studio. It wasn’t exactly her dream workspace, but it was the best she could get at the price she was willing to spend. She was intent on not asking her parents for startup money. She’d put aside 10% of her paycheck every week for the past 100 years and had built up a sizeable nest egg, but she was hesitant to spend it on an expensive studio. Not when she didn’t know if she’d be able to hack it in the world of fashion, and not when she knew that she was going to need to drop a ton of credits to afford a venue and host a proper fashion show.

So she was okay with the small, grey space and its minimal windows. She’d just buy some sun lamps to simulate daylight. And really, a plain old desk without a drafting table attachment was just fine; it had served her well enough over the years. Her sewing station didn’t need a lot of bells and whistles as long as it was dependable and comfy to sit at for long stretches of time.

“This is fine,” she said aloud as she sat down at her desk. She pulled out the tablet and stylus that she had been doodling with on the ride downtown, which was quite a literal term. Nos Astra was a very vertical city, smaller than most major cities in terms of square footage, but it made up for it with its levels. Lower levels housed lower income citizens, due to its more inhospitable conditions. The further up in the city you climbed, the ritzier the apartments and businesses became. The T’Lani headquarters were, of course, on the topmost level of the city, a massive spire that overlooked the peasants. Her apartment was a level below, still very much a part of the upper crust due to the fact that her parents were the ones who acquired it for her. Her office, which she was paying for out of pocket, was a definite few levels below, while her new friend dwelled somewhere in the deepest recesses of the city. Ground level (which wasn't _really_ ground level; few people knew that Nos Astra was built on a plateau, which was a good thing -- at 8000 feet above sea level, its surface temperature was 101° F compared to the staggering 145° F on the planet’s actual surface) was a grey area in terms of status. It housed the poorest of the poor but was still a major trade area, given the river that led to other cities on Illium.

Tahirah knew she needed to take stock of the dresses she had made that were potentially runway worthy, but right now, she wanted to finish getting this concept out of her head. “This is totally fine.”

Not two seconds after she said this, the overhead lights flickered and went dark.

After a moment’s stunned silence, she bit off the words, “Oh, come on!”

Tahirah pulled up the building information and dialed the maintenance number on her omni-tool.

“Building maintenance, how may I help you?” a cool, programmed voice answered.

 _Oh good, a VI_ , Tahirah thought, without any trace of sarcasm. At least if she was speaking to a virtual interface, she could act as snippy as she felt. If she was speaking to a sentient individual (organic or synthetic), she would need to be polite and pleasant, because of course it wasn’t their fault -- but computer interfaces had no feelings to hurt, so there were no social customs to adhere to. It was a liberating feeling.

“Yeah, actually,” she said, fully aware of how snotty her voice sounded. “I’ve been in my new office for barely twenty minutes, and my lightbulbs just went out. I didn’t sign up for this.”

“We’re so sorry for the inconvenience. A maintenance worker will be with you shortly, if you’ll just sit tight.”

“Good.” Tahirah disconnected the call. She spun around in her chair in lazy circles as she pondered her misfortunes. It seemed like everything that could possibly go wrong did go wrong. The horrific interview, the less than stellar office, the burnt out lights... she was ready for the tides to change, ready for something undeniably _good_ to happen.

Something slammed against her door, and she fell out of her chair with an embarrassing squeak. At a second, slightly softer, bang, she found the courage to speak. “C- Come in?” she said, the tail end rising into an uncertain question. She immediately regretted saying anything. She was about 70% certain that her new studio was haunted by a vengeful spirit, and she had just made a grave mistake by inviting it in.

The door swung open, and Tahirah exhaled in relief. “You must be maintenance. Sorry I'm on the floor, you startled me.” She tried to pick herself up off the floor without completely embarrassing herself, since she'd made the mistake of wearing one of her shorter pencil skirts.

“Apologetically:,” the maintenance worker began, “That was meant to be a knock.” Cognizant of Tahirah’s struggle, the elcor offered a hand.

The size difference between asari and elcor was never more painfully obvious. Tahirah wrapped her hand around one outstretched finger and used it as leverage to get back on her feet. “Thank you,” she said, self-consciously tugging her skirt down to a more socially acceptable level.

“Pleasantly: you’re welcome. Inquiring: are you the one who sent in a request about faulty lighting?”

Tahirah didn’t know how to respond, so she simply glanced up at the dead light then squinted through the darkness at the elcor.

“Oh.” There was a moment’s pause. “Self-berating: That was a stupid question. Never mind, forgive my hastiness.”

Tahirah bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud at the perception of hastiness in the eyes of an elcor. “Consider it forgiven.” She perched on her desk and watched as the elcor stretched up to the ceiling and removed the fixture’s screen with ease.. “How nice of them to send me such a big, strapping fella to fix this,” she said, more than a little impressed at the sheer size and strength of the worker.

“Bluntly: I am not a ‘fella.’ I am female.” The elcor set aside the cover and activated her omni-tool’s flashlight. Using the light to guide her, she carefully selected a tool from the utility belt she wore around her waist.

Gender was hard. Especially where elcor were concerned, as the differences between their sexes were as subtle as the variations in their speech patterns. Tahirah was privately of the opinion that other species cared too much about assigning certain words to certain genders, and everyone should follow the asari example and just use one set of pronouns.

“Even better,” she rallied. “I love a lady with muscles.”

The elcor paused and looked directly at her, and Tahirah was _pretty_ sure she saw the faintest squint to her eyes. “Suspiciously: are you flirting with me?”

“Define flirting,” Tahirah replied, using the most flirtatious voice she had at her disposal.

The elcor didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she took the time to remove the faulty light bulbs using her tool, a long, pincer-like instrument that gave her the dexterity that wouldn’t be possible with normal, oversized elcor fingers. Tahirah had never thought about the accommodations an elcor would need to navigate a world meant for more standard sized species. Watching the maintenance worker manage these fiddly, technical tasks fascinated her.

“Straight-faced: acting coquettish, as if you intend to woo me,” the elcor finally answered.

Tahirah smirked. “Cute. In that case, yes, I am flirting with you.”

The elcor gingerly gripped the replacement light bulb in her mechanical grasp. Bracing herself against the floor with the knuckles of her left hand, she reached her right hand up to the light fixture once more. “Without even the slightest trace of humor: I was not being cute, or amusing in any way.”

Tahirah was taken aback, afraid that she’d offended. “Oh. Oh gosh, I’m sorry,” she apologized, concern wrinkling her brow.

The elcor let out a small huff of air that was indecipherable to Tahirah. “Reassuringly: I was being facetious.”

It took her a few moments to process this revelation. “Did you… hack your kinetic processing translator?” she asked.

“Coyly: perhaps.” She focused on her work, reattaching the cover panel, and steadily avoided her gaze.

Tahirah’s grin lit up the room. “That is so smart!” she enthused. “Brains _and_ brawn, that’s enough to make me swoon. You really are the whole package.”

The elcor flipped the switch, and light flooded the room, giving Tahirah her first full glimpse of her savior. She was tall, larger than most elcor she'd met (but then, she didn't think she had met any female elcor before), with dappled grey skin and a long diagonal scar running over one eye, which gave her a perpetually angry expression. Tahirah would be lying if she said she didn't think it was attractive. The same couldn’t be said for her sense of fashion. Granted, Tahirah hadn’t studied much of elcor fashion, so for all she knew, she was the snappiest dresser ever to hail from Dekuuna -- but overalls didn’t look good on anyone.

In her humble opinion, anyway.

The impulse to ask her out struck her, and she acted on it, never one for second thoughts. “Do you want to maybe go out on a date?” It wasn't her smoothest proposal, but she was more used to fielding requests than giving them.

The elcor didn't need more than three seconds to consider the offer. “Politely: No.”

Tahirah blinked. This was not the answer she had been expecting, and she had no idea how to respond to it. In her hundred odd years of dating, she had been rejected maybe twice. She wasn’t prepared for it to sting as much as it did, especially considering that she had only known her for ten minutes.

“Oh,” she said. “Are you already seeing someone then?”

“Mildly: No. And you are a sweet person. But let’s not rush things.”

Tahirah relaxed a little at the reassurance that she wasn’t entirely undesirable. “Oh. Well, then. Typical elcor,” she said, regaining some of her casual flippant demeanor.

“Wryly amused: It’s funny that you say that.”

“Why?” Tahirah’s curiosity was piqued.

The elcor’s omni-tool buzzed, and she checked the incoming message. “Semi-urgently: I have to go.”

“But we didn’t finish our conversation,” Tahirah protested.

The elcor began packing up her tools. “Distractedly: I take lunch at around noon on the rooftop. If you want to join me, you are welcome.”

Tahirah beamed at her, spirits lifted. “It’s a date!”

“Friendly reminder: No it’s not.”

“Right, sorry, you’re right. It’s not a date.”

Tahirah was still grinning when the door shut behind her, and she belatedly realized that she never got the elcor’s name.

 

\---

 

Tahirah accomplished very little that day, spending most of her time doodling idly and contemplating how tomorrow’s lunch would go. Although she did consider setting up mannequins to display her more recent creations to be an achievement in and of itself. She then purchased ten more of them, along with a salarian and quarian model in case she decided to branch out, and called it a day.

When she arrived home, she decided to call her father.

“Hi Daddy,” she said, smiling at the video image of her father’s face. Shepard was old for a human, having recently celebrated her 200th birthday, but she didn’t look her age. Her short curly hair was more grey than auburn, and wrinkles from years of laughter and stress had settled in, but she still possessed a wiry strength and was as sharp as the day she joined the marines.

It was no secret that Shepard loathed doctors and hadn’t seen one in at least fifty years, but the last time she consulted with one, the doctor wasn’t able to predict any impending death. Genetically modified humans like Miranda Lawson were expected to live up to 225 years, a lifetime and a half longer than an average human, but Shepard was a unique story. She died at 29 years old and was rebuilt two years later, all cybernetic implants and reconstructed organs. She was an anomaly in nature, and there was no predicting how long her half synthetic, half organic body would last, but Shepard was confident that she’d at least live to see her daughters’ 200th birthday.

“Hey, how was your first day in the office?”

“Eventful.” Tahirah settled in on her bed, having changed into a camisole and lounge pants with the word _Bootyherax_ emblazoned across the back. “It’s not enormous and has terrible natural lighting, _and_ the overhead lights blew out like two seconds after I sat down. But it’s okay, because that led to something amazing. Drumroll, please”

“Dh-dh-dh-dh-dh-dh-dh,” Shepard scatted in response.

“I met a girl!”

Shepard’s face lit up. She had always approved of her daughters dating girls, being very vocal about her own attraction to women and asari. “Hell yeah! Who is she? What is she?”

“I actually didn’t get her name, but I’m eating lunch with her tomorrow so that’s first on my agenda of things to do when I see her again. I guess she’s a maintenance worker for the building, and she’s an elcor.”

Shepard chuckled heartily for a solid sixty seconds, according to the call’s timer. Tahirah was not amused in the slightest.

“No, but really, what is she?” Shepard asked once she recovered from her fit of laughter.

“I told you already,” Tahirah said, voice terse. “Elcor.”

“Oh.” Shepard scratched the back of her neck, an awkwardness stretching between them. “Really? An elcor? I mean, I’m not racist, but--”

“If you have to say that, then you’re being racist, and you know it!” Tahirah was sufficiently annoyed now, fed up with this particular line of bullshit.

“Well, can you blame me?” Shepard shot back, getting defensive now. “She’s an elcor! How do you find that attractive? How do you even _flirt_ with an elcor?” She deepened her voice, adopting the monotone drone favored by the species. “‘Seductively: Take me now...’”

“Oh. My goddess. That is so immature. For your information, she was smart and had a really dry sense of humor and big muscles so yeah, I found that attractive!”

Realizing that she’d crossed a line, Shepard dialed back the abrasiveness. “You’re right, I’m being an ass. Big muscles, huh, you really are your mother’s daughter. But still… an elcor?”

Tahirah rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, Dad, this isn't _She's a Keeper_ , like an elcor is really the weirdest thing for me to have a crush on? Get over it."

"You know, I saw that for the first time recently, and let me tell you, it is hi _larious_ \--"

Normally Tahirah enjoyed hearing about the vids her father watched (Shepard never much had the opportunity to experience traditional entertainment, growing up on the streets of Earth, and she was still making up for lost time), but she was too exasperated to listen. "Ugh, you're so insensitive!" she snapped, disconnecting her omni-tool. She felt like she was 50 again, still going through puberty and complaining about her parents, but she felt that it was justifiable for her to be ticked off at her father.

Thinking she might have better luck with a fellow asari, she called her mother's private line.

Liara answered in the voice of the Shadow Broker, and Tahirah jumped at the sound. She would never get used to the gravely, distorted tone of the voice changer.

“I’m sorry, Tahirah,” Liara apologized, switching back to her normal voice. “Is everything okay?”

"Yeah, just, Dad's being a jerk again!"

Liara wasn't surprised to hear this exactly; she was more surprised that it was coming from Tahirah, who was the epitome of a "Daddy's girl." "Oh goddess, what did she do now?"

“I told her that I met a girl today, an elcor, and she laughed her ass off for like, at least a minute. Then got all racist and ‘really? An elcor?’ when I told her that it was true. It was _so_ offensive.”

“Yes, there’s a reason why your father has never been good at fitting in with polite society. You know she’s not meaning to be offensive, she just finds it hard to see the romantically desirable traits in certain species.”

“Is it really that weird, that I _might_ have a crush on an elcor?”

“I’m probably not the best person to ask about interspecies relationships. I fell in love with a human, after all.”

Tahirah sighed. “Yeah, but that’s so standard these days, what with how crazy humans are about asari.”

“It’s not like we don’t branch out, though. You know it’s in our nature to be exogamous.” This was true; she could remember studying about reproductive instincts in school, as well as the ancient asari goddess Tevura, who governed the overlapping spheres of love, sex, travel, and law, in her mythology lessons. “I have a half-sister who’s part hanar, remember?”

Tahirah thought about her aunt, with her pinkish-purple skin and ability to communicate through bioluminescent blinking.

"Yeah, but Grandpa Aethyta was never in love with Zephyrinus, right? They were never bondmates, like with Grandma Benezia."

"Well..." Liara hesitated. "No, I don't think so. Some species are just harder for asari to connect to on a certain level. Hanar, vorcha..."

"...Elcor," Tahirah supplied flatly. This was not how she had wanted the conversation to go.

"There's nothing wrong with having feelings for an elcor," Liara hastened to add, but it didn't reassure Tahirah any. She was quite certain most asari melded with elcor for the genetic diversity or the unique experience, not because they were genuinely attracted to them.

She had been an exotic dancer for 100 years, and yet, this was the first thing that made her feel like a sexual deviant.

She wasn't entirely sure she liked the feeling.

"Thanks for the reassurance, Mom. I'm going to go take a shower now, so..." She excused herself, brushing off Liara's concerned goodbye.

Tahirah didn't move from her seat, having no intention of actually showering at the moment. Instead, she gnawed on her lip and vowed to put it out of mind for now. She’d see where lunch tomorrow took them, and _then_ she could worry about whether or not the spark of attraction she’d felt today was a problem.

 

\---

 

Finding access to the roof of her office building proved to be a more daunting task than Tahirah anticipated. Upon learning that the building's elevators did not service the rooftop, she was out of ideas and resorted to aimless wandering. Finally, she came across an unmarked door in a back corridor that, when opened, revealed a narrow set of metal stairs.

She gingerly climbed the rickety steps, and the vision that awaited her when she opened the rooftop hatch was worth risking her life for. It wasn't just the sight of her new elcor friend, although that did prompt a brief flutter of excitement in her stomach. The building was tall enough that she couldn’t see the roof from outside, and she had no idea that it was a terraformed work of art. Shrubs and perennials spilled across the rooftop, an oasis that fought the city’s smog and provided it with fresh oxygen.

Tahirah could see why the elcor liked to eat lunch here.

She navigated the concrete path that wound through the plants until she reached the center, a perfect circle of empty space where the elcor sat, lunch in hand.

“It is _beautiful_ up here,” Tahirah said as she approached, eyes sparkling. “But before I go any further -- I never got your name, I’m sorry. I always get carried away when I meet new people.”

The elcor set down the trunk that served as her lunchbox. “Quietly amused: My name is Lillen.”

“Lillen,” Tahirah repeated. “That’s such a pretty name.” She sat down and crossed her legs, grateful that she’d chosen to wear to wear pants today instead of a skirt. Dresses _were_ her favorite article of clothing, but there was something to be said for a pair of form-fitting, black pants with criss-crossing, peekaboo bands at the knees that showed off the garment’s mesh underlay.

She glanced around the rooftop in wonder. “I had no idea this is what it looked like up here. Definitely worth the adventure of trying to find a way up. Speaking of which, okay, this might be totally rude of me, but I have _got_ to ask. How in Thessia did you get up here? I mean, I could barely squeeze up that staircase, and I'm a perfect 10 in galactic standard sizes.”

“Enigmatically: I have my ways.”

Tahirah gesticulated wildly in response. “What does that even mean?”

“Mysteriously: You tell me. I am an enigma.”

“Infuriatingly obtuse, more like,” Tahirah said, but it was hard to sound cross when amusement kept threatening to slip into her voice.

Lillen let out another puff of air that Tahirah was beginning to recognize as a noise of amusement. “Acquiescing: I travel here from the outside of the building.” She subtly tipped her head towards the roof’s edge.

A mental image of the elcor scaling the building like Spiderman briefly flashed through Tahirah’s mind, and she jumped to her feet to see what she was referring to. Tentatively, she leaned over the roof’s lip to find a window washer’s scaffolding, a massive rig designed so the elcor could maneuver around the building’s facade. It was common in several places in the galaxy for drones to do this sort of work, but not all businesses could afford that luxury. Nos Astra was unique in its own right, too, being populated by a sizeable portion of the upper crust of society. While they could certainly afford their own fleet of maintenance drones, certain snooty individuals (like T’Lani, Tahirah had no doubt) revelled in hiring manual labor to do the dirty work. It was a status symbol, a way of proving their superiority over the working poor.

“Well, that makes a lot more sense,” Tahirah said. “And _wow_ , I am not usually fazed by heights, but this is damn high. It’s making me a little anxious.” She laughed nervously and backed away from the ledge. It was a long, _long_ way down to the ground.

“Reluctant admittance: me too.”

Tahirah scurried back over to join Lillen. “You’re not a fan of heights?” she asked, curious. She was eager to learn more about her enigmatic new friend.

“Conversationally: No, most elcor aren’t. Falling from a great height on our homeworld can be lethal.”

Tahirah nodded in comprehension. “Right, high gravity.”  She unwrapped her lunch, honey-glazed shrimp on a bed of rice, and a bar of Berry Blue Blast eezo dough (because even if she was a young adult trying to hack it in the real world, there would always be the small child she once was inside of her, craving her favorite sweet treat).  She tried not to be too obvious in her fascinated staring as she watched Lillen open up her own lunch container and remove a small shrub. “That reminds me, you thought it was funny when I called you a typical elcor yesterday. How come?”

Lillen took her time to answer, bringing the flowering plant up to her mouth and manipulating several leaves through the dexterous slats. The silence made Tahirah nervous, and she gnawed on her lower lip, worried that she’d made a mistake in bringing the subject up.

Lillen chewed thoroughly and swallowed before responding, “Carefully: I’m not a very good elcor.”

Tahirah was reminded of Zero, telling her that she wasn’t loyal to her race, the most grievous offense in the eyes of the quarian species. She wanted to reassure Lillen that it was okay to not value the same things that the majority of her culture did, but she felt that it was inappropriate, especially since she didn’t know why Lillen felt like a failure of an elcor. “How come?” she asked instead.

“With mild regret: I haven’t seen or spoken my clan in 25 years. I was born in Malvuon and spent my entire childhood ready to leave Dekuuna. Ruminating: I always wanted to see the stars, and no one I knew understood why. Space travel is rare for us, but the first time I stepped off the soil of my homeland and onto a spaceship, I felt like I was home.”

Tahirah struggled to understand. “But aren’t your people migratory by nature? You’d think they’d understand you wanting to travel.”

Lillen manipulated a flower blossom into her mouth and sucked on it, savoring its sweetness. “With wry amusement: Yeah, not like this. We migrate in groups. Community is everything to an elcor, and I was always ready to explore outside of it. Morosely: I got into a fight with my family. They accused me of not valuing them, and I left.”

Tahirah placed a comforting hand on Lillen’s forearm. “Oh, Lil, I’m sorry… is it okay if I call you Lil?”

“Neutrally: I don’t hate it.”

That was good enough for Tahirah. “I’m sure if you talked to them again, they’d understand.”

“Attempting not to sound rude: I know. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Tahirah wisely dropped the subject. She peeled the wrapper off her bar of eezo dough and bit into it, letting its sweetness melt into her mouth and stain her tongue bright blue. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I feel like a disappointment to my parents too,” she confided. “My sister went on to join the asari military and become a huntress. She got my mom’s biotic talent and my dad’s technical skill and used it for good. I used my biotics for gymbiotics and spent the last 100 years dancing on Omega. Which I _loved_ , don’t get me wrong, but when you’re the daughter of Commander Shepard and Dr. Liara T’Soni, you get paparazzi writing nasty articles about you every now and then.”

“Thoughtfully: I’m pretty sure I read one of those articles.”

“Oh, good!” Tahirah said, sounding a little hysterical.

“In a placating manner: I never believed any of it. Knowingly: Everyone has different talents. We can’t all be military heroes. If you can make at least one person’s life better, then you are a success. Confidently: And I’m sure you were a very talented dancer who made a lot of people happy.”

This shouldn’t have made her as happy as it did. “You know what? I did make a lot of people happy. Have you ever seen an asari dance onstage before?”  she asked, scooting closer to Lillen and turning up the charm.

Lillen placed the bare corpse of her lunch back into the trunk that served as her lunchbox. “Deeply serious: That is a conversation for another time.”

Tahirah grinned up at her. “I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch?” she asked as she packed away the remnants of her own meal.

“Amicably: I’ll be here.”

Tahirah’s stomach fluttered again, and she waved goodbye as Lillen returned to her window washing rig. Her sense of purpose was renewed after that conversation. She was going to make _so many_ people’s lives better by making them look like superstars.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is alcohol usage in this chapter, if you need a warning for that!

This wasn’t what Tahirah had in mind for her life in Nos Astra. She had lofty dreams of working for T’Lani and living a life worthy of a famous designer, but she found that she didn’t mind the path that life had carved out for her. She was working on her collection of dresses, having drinks or dinner with Zero three times a week, (whenever the quarian was able to slip away long enough), and flirting with Lil during their daily lunches.

Lillen still wasn’t ready to go out on a date, but Tahirah had asked for her number so they could at least get to know each other better, and they had gotten into the habit of texting each other throughout the day.

Tahirah was working on a new project where she toyed with transparency in unexpected places. A velvet evening gown that turned into sheer organza solely between the upper thigh and the knee, the transition facilitated with sparkling swirled embellishments. A piece that was more sculpture than fashion, intricate three dimensional threadwork forming the illusion of rings floating around a formfitting bodysuit. Or the dress she was working on right now, a short, satiny sheath dress with a beaded bodice and a sheer, floor-length overlay that ended in a Chantilly lace hem.

Her EMTX datapad buzzed when she was concentrating exceptionally hard on the corset and she jumped, stabbing herself with her beading needle. “Shit,” she hissed to herself, sucking on the wound as she put the needle down and opened up the incoming message.

**Lillen: How are you? OwwO**

Tahirah smiled and picked up the datapad to type out a reply. She had wondered why, the first time Lillen texted her, she didn’t preface her statements with emotives. Lil explained that punctuation and emoticons in written communication were similar to the subtleties in elcor speech, making clarifying phrases unnecessary. Tahirah had thus since been introduced to a number of elcor emoticons, which used Ws and Ms to represent the slats of their mouths, and she found them utterly adorable.

**Tahirah: Good! I’m hand-sewing the bodice for that dress I told you I was working on, and I really need to find somewhere that sells a thimble, because I keep sticking myself with this needle, ugh.**

She attached another three beads to the fabric before the datapad trilled again.

**Lillen: Don’t you have machines to do that for you? o???o**

Always eager to educate someone on the fashion industry, Tahirah put down her materials and focused solely on typing, fingers flying over the keyboard.

**Tahirah: Not for couture! The premium comes from our labor and expertise. Anyone can use machines to make something nice, but it takes a really skilled artist to make something by hand. Not to toot my own horn or anything ;) But people pay high prices for uniqueness, and that means having something handmade and custom tailored to them.**

**Lillen: Well, I can’t pretend I totally understand it… but from what I’ve seen of your work, it is worth the high price. ^ww-**

Tahirah clapped her hands over her cheeks, a smile splitting her face. She needed a few minutes to recover from the compliment.

**Tahirah: You charmer, you.**

Lillen didn’t respond to the message, probably because she was on the clock as well, and Tahirah resumed her own work. It took her several hours and three more pricked fingers until she felt that she reached a stopping point in the beading process. The rest of it could wait until tomorrow. For now, she was done for the night and planned to meet up with Zero for a bite of dinner in an hour or so.

She took the time to survey her collection of finished (well, _mostly_ finished -- they would all need to be modified, depending on who wore them) dresses. They were good, if she did say so herself. She just needed some models, and then she could tailor them to the perfect fit. She couldn’t afford to hire any professionals, not when she was paying out of pocket for a venue and everything else, but there certainly wasn’t any shortage of aspiring models in Nos Astra. She had no doubt that they would work for free, eager to break into the modelling world.

She just needed a little media buzz, a boost of publicity. Something to get the word out there -- maybe she’d ask her parents about the PR rep they’d hired after one too many interviews that resulted in Shepard getting overly defensive and punching or insulting the reporter. She’d need to craft the perfect invitation too, one that she could send to choice designers, socialites, local celebrities… It needed to be special, something that provided a sneak peek into her collection and built hype, something unique and creative, just like her work. This was her chance to make a first impression, an opportunity to pique people’s interest and provide a statement on what she had to offer the world of fashion.

She was still brainstorming for ideas for an innovative invitation and a way to publicize herself when she left her building. So wrapped up in her own thoughts, she almost didn’t hear her name.

“Ms. Shepard-T’Soni!” a dark blue asari called out to her, flagging her down. “My name is Callista al-Jilani, and I am a reporter for the Nos Astra Times. Can you answer a few questions for me?”

Well. That was a freebie. “As long as you’re asking about me, not my parents,” she replied.

“Fair enough,” the journalist conceded. “Is it true that you were recently rejected from the city’s most influential designer, Nataliya T’Lani?”

Tahirah bristled a little at that, but did her best to maintain a pleasant smile. “You’re a little behind on the times, but yes. Who cares? Simone Gaudreault was rejected from T’Lani and at least two other high fashion designers, and she went on to become one of the most influential human designers of our time.”

“I see. Would you say that your work compares to Gaudreault?”

Tahirah realized that she was treading on thin ice here. She was not an established designer yet, and comparing herself to someone who was galactically renowned for their wearable art was a terrible idea. She didn’t want to come off as egotistical, but she didn’t want to appear mediocre either. “Why don’t you be the judge of that?” she asked, with what she hoped was an enigmatic flutter of her eyelashes. “I’ll be holding an exclusive fashion show to premiere my line three weeks from now. Keep an eye out for my personal invitations. Limited tickets may be sold at the door. No further comment,” she said, slipping on a pair of sunglasses and sauntering off to the hideaway down the street.

\---

“And then I said that I was going to be holding my fashion show three weeks from now,” Tahirah moaned, exiting the restaurant with Zero. “I don’t know why I even mentioned a date, I just panicked and blurted out the first number that came in my head. I have three weeks to find a venue -- which I need to do, like, tomorrow so I can send out invitations -- hire models, tailor all of their outfits, organize the show itself… I’m going to die, Zero. I am literally going to _die_.”

“You’re not going to die,” Zero assured her. “I promise you will get it all done, even if it means some late nights. Speaking of which… I need to get back to my own personal hell. Are you sending an invitation to T’Lani?”

“Oh, hell yes I am. I am going to make them regret not hiring me.”

“Yeah, make the bosh’tets eat their own shit. And with any luck, they’ll make me come along with them to be their personal pack mule, so I’ll get to see the show too.”

Tahirah smiled. “I’d love that,” she said sincerely, squeezing Zero’s hand in gratitude. “Now go!” she said, lightly pushing her so she could scurry back to work.

She started walking in the opposite direction, intending to catch the next public shuttle back in the direction of her apartment. She was scrolling through her email on her datapad and idly wondering how Lil was doing when a shadow fell across her path.

“Speak of the devil,” she said, grinning up at Lillen. “I was just thinking about you!”

“Relieved: I’m glad I caught you. I thought you might have gone home for the day already.”

“Well, I did knock off earlier to have dinner with Zero. You’re lucky it was in the area.”

“Mysteriously: Perhaps it was fate. I brought you something.” Lillen opened her hand. In the center of her massive palm lay a tiny thimble, and Tahirah’s heart melted in her chest. She’d wondered if that attraction she felt the day they met was just that, a momentary spark of desire, but the gesture made her realize -- she was developing legitimate feelings for the elcor.

“You went looking for one for me? That couldn’t have been easy, it’s such a niche item these days… thank you, Lil.”

Lillen shuffled her feet. “Embarrassed: It was nothing; I had some free time today.”

“Well, I really appreciate it.” She stood on her tiptoes and stretched up to kiss Lillen on the cheek. “That’s a platonic kiss, don’t worry.”

Lillen touched her cheek, looking down at Tahirah. “Dubiously: are you sure?”

 _No_. “Yes! I kiss my family on the cheek all the time.” While the former was a lie, the latter was not; she was an affectionate person by nature. “I know you’re not ready to date yet. Or ever. And that’s okay. I’m just glad to have someone who’s such a good friend to me.” She held up the thimble. “And I can’t wait to use this tomorrow. Good night, Lillen. See you at lunch tomorrow?”

“Warmly: Of course. Good night, Tahirah.”

She glowed the entire way home, thimble snug in the palm of her hand.

\---

Tahirah could not remember the last time she was this nervous. Maybe her first dance recital as a kid (there was video footage of her bursting into tears on stage, and no amount of pleading could make Shepard delete it), but ever since then, she’d never been shy about getting up on stage or addressing a crowd. But this was different. This wasn’t a mere performance, this was her work, art that she had sunk hours and hours into. She’d never shared it so publicly before. This was _personal_ , and she was petrified that she would receive negative reviews.

She peeked out at the audience. She’d confided her fears to Zero earlier in the evening, and the quarian had told her that if she got nervous, to look for her in the front row. And there she was, weighed down by T’Lani and her executives’ coats.

She couldn’t see Lillen from here, but the lights flickered above her, a sign that it was almost showtime and a reassurance that her not-girlfriend was still there and manning the technical side of things.

Tahirah took a deep breath and stepped out onto the stage, confidently walking down the long runway. Flanked on either side of the raised runway stood two video screens that stretched from the floor to the vaulted ceiling, an audio-visual display designed to project images in line with the theme of the night. She had opted for a laser-cut invitation, negative space creating cursive words and an intricate border that resembled her preferred cut of lace. She thought it went well with her focus on transparent features, and it blended sleek, modern lines of futuristic high fashion with the glamorous, pseudo-vintage style she liked to incorporate in her work. The monitors sought to capture this aesthetic and emulate the style of her designs by flickering through cut out images and tasteful backgrounds. It wasn’t the fanciest of setups (she dreamed of holding her own 4D fashion show someday), but it was the best she could do given the short timeframe and lack of incoming funds. She was pleased with it, the images on the screen were a nice, if fairly standard, touch.

Now, however, the screens displayed a closeup of her face so that everyone in the audience could see her as she began her welcome speech.

She was okay. She could do this. She looked good, in a backless bodycon dress with lace side panel details forming the illusion of an hourglass silhouette, but not _too_ good. She didn’t want to upstage her own creations, after all. She found Zero in the front row, needing the familiarity of a good friend to stabilize her.

Lights blinked on across the surface of the mask that obscured Zero’s face, displaying a virtual emoticon. A smiley face winked at Tahirah, followed by a heart, and she almost cracked a grin. Comforted, she cleared her throat and opened her mouth to begin her introduction speech.

“Good evening, ladies, gentlemen, asari, and individuals of indistinct gender. My name is Tahirah Shepard-T’Soni, and I would like to welcome you to the premiere of my new line, _Tahirah Benezia_ . Legendary human designer Christian Dior once said, ‘Real elegance is everywhere, especially in the things that don’t show.’ As iconic as Dior was and continues to be --which we can see in his influence in recent collections by talented artists such as Muraci--” She respectfully nodded to the designer and his entourage in the back of the room (Muraci! She couldn’t believe that _Muraci_ had accepted an invitation to her show!) and continued, “I wish to challenge this statement. I believe that elegance can be found in the revealing of parts of the body that typically don’t show. In this collection, I seek to do the unexpected...”

As she continued her speech, she could see the audience react, whispering among themselves. She had no idea whether it was positive or negative, but she chose to take it as an encouraging sign. Her clothes were _supposed_ to be thought provoking, unique enough to stimulate conversation.

She should have realized that something was wrong when Zero’s mask flashed an ellipsis, which was soon followed by three exclamation points. But she was on a roll now, occasionally glancing down at her notecards, but primarily focusing on delivering the rest of her introductory speech.

It was only when the whispering grew louder and more scandalized that she broke off, confused. No one was looking at her anymore, their attention riveted on the huge screens  behind her.

Tahirah slowly turned around, and her blood ran ice cold. The monitor images were gone, replaced by alarmingly high quality pictures of her on Omega, dressed in little else than the outfit she had designed to be worn on stage.

And these weren’t the tasteful pictures she had taken to reference her craft. These were ones that she didn’t know _existed_ , candid snapshots of her with her leg wrapped around a pole, head tossed back in ecstasy; on a table in a back room, giving a batarian a private show; gyrating on stage, her image projected on the holographic column in the center of the nightclub.

She forgot what she was going to say next, the words dying on her painted lips. Her chest tightened, and she looked around the room, panicking. Just when she made up her mind to attempt to laugh it off without crying, the power went out a dying hum, saving her the embarrassment of trying to salvage the situation. She took the opportunity to hurry back down the runway and duck backstage.

The emergency light strips glowed to life, and one by one, her audience filed out of the room, buzzing with chatter.

And just like that, her show was over before it even began.

Just like her career.

Safely out of view, Tahirah sat down on the center of the floor, not even caring that dirt would cling to the black fabric of her dress. She buried her head in the crook of her arms, too distraught to notice when she wasn’t alone anymore.

“Distressed: I’m sorry, Tahirah.” She glanced up at the sound of a familiar voice, squinting at Lillen through her tears. “I don’t know how they hacked into my video feed without my realizing...”

“No, it’s okay, Lil,” she said, scrubbing her eyes with her forearm as she stumbled to her feet. “It’s not your fault. I just… wish I knew who would do this to me. I’m so mortified, no one is ever going to respect me as an artist if all they see when they look at me is--” She gulped down a breath of air, voice shaky. “--is me half naked on a stage. Maybe I should just go back to Omega. It’s the only thing I’m good at, apparently.”

Lillen lifted up an arm and stretched it out, and Tahirah didn’t hesitate to rush into it. She threw her arms around Lillen’s bulk, letting her hug her close to her chest.

“Comfortingly: You are good at everything you do, and people will recognize that. With barely restrained emotion: I’m just so sorry that this happened to you, especially when I was in charge of your tech tonight.”

Tahirah rested her cheek against the cool, rough surface of Lillen’s skin. “Don’t beat yourself up over it,” she murmured. “Assholes find a way to hurt people no matter what. Thank you for being here for me.”

“Sorry, am I interrupting something?” Zero’s tinny, accented voice cut through the air, and Tahirah pulled away to look at her friend. “No, Lil was just making me feel better about this whole...” She waved vaguely at their surroundings. “This whole fucking mess. How did you get away?”

“Um. Well, T’Lani’s kind of over the moon right now and gave me the rest of the night off because she’s going to go… gloat about how right she was...” She trailed off as a fresh batch of tears welled up in Tahirah’s eyes. ‘

Lillen cleared her throat. “Tersely: Ahem.”

“Yeah, sorry, ugh, never mind,” Zero quickly backpedalled, flinging her arms around Tahirah’s neck. “I’m so sorry about this. Tonight, I’m as free as the dust in the solar wind,” she quoted, “if you need someone to be around.”

Tahirah giggled a little at the _Fleet and Flotilla_ reference, relaxing into the hug. “That vid was so bad.”

“I know,” Zero admitted, snickering softly herself.

Tahirah inhaled a deep shuddery breath and tried to regain some composure. “Well, you know what they say,” she said, putting on a brave front. “Pour yourself a drink, put on some lipstick, and pull yourself together.”

“Yeah, I have no idea who says that, but I agree with it.”

“Elizabeth Taylor,” she said, stepping back and smoothing out her dress. She received blank stares from both her friends (at least, she thinked so, it was hard to tell with the subtlety of Lillen’s shifts in expressions and the mask obscuring most of Zero’s face). “Never mind, I specialized in human cultural history and history of fashion in school. Basically, I need a drink or ten and...” She reached into the hidden pocket of her dress, nestled in her cleavage, and pulled out a small tube. “A fresh coat of lipstick.”

“Kindly: You go out with Zero. I’ll take care of cleanup.”

Heart swelling with affection for the elcor, Tahirah brushed her hand against Lillen’s arm. “Thank you, Lil. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Gruffly: Just doing my job.”

Tahirah smiled and took Zero’s hand, leading her towards the stage’s backdoor.

“What was _that_ all about?” Zero said the minute they were out of earshot.

“We’re still just friends,” Tahirah told her. “I’m not rushing her into anything, she’s just a really good friend, that’s all.”

“Okay,” Zero said, in a mild tone that conveyed her complete and utter skepticism of this claim. “Come on, let’s go get drunk.”

\---

“I can’t keep talking about this,” Tahirah said after a glass of elasa, two Full Biotic Kicks, and three Thessian Temples. The elasa was a bad choice to start with; it made her weepy, and she spent far too long pouring her heart out to Zero. “Enough about me. What about you, when’s the last time you’ve gotten a half day?”

“Let me see...” Zero said, tapping her mouthpiece. “I think it was roughly… never?”

Tahirah snorted into her Shadowbrokertini (which, upon acquisition, she promptly took a picture of and sent to her mother). “Goddess, seriously though, it sucks that you’re basically, _literally_ , a slave for-- how much longer?”

“Twenty years,” Zero said, morose as she stirred her glass of turian brandy.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Tahirah exploded, well on the path to wasted. “Can’t we like… hack into your contract? My sister’s a _great_ hacker -- hell, my dad would do it if I asked her. She’s not a Spectre anymore but I’m pretty sure she can handwave her way through that. You get special privileges if you’re Commander Shepard. Or Lil!” she added, pointing at the ceiling. “Your pick, I got three special ladies, all of whom will do my bidding if I ask them. For various reasons.”

“I don’t know about that,” Zero said, and Tahirah was _pretty_ sure she was grinning through her mask. She was glad that she could make the quarian smile, even when talking about how dire her life was. “I didn’t actually sign a contract. They just made it very clear that they would ruin my life if I left. And with the ankle bracelet and their connections, they’d know if I tried to escape. If I hadn’t met you at the exact moment that I did, I probably would have killed myself, honestly. It’s just not worth it. Or it wouldn’t be, if I didn’t have a legit friend right now.”

Tahirah clapped a hand on Zero’s shoulder. “Zero. You know what this means, right? You can’t kill yourself, but there’s only one option if you ever want to escape this shithole.”

“Alright, what is it?” Zero asked, humoring her.

Tahirah gingerly moved their glasses aside, freeing up some space. “Fake your death! Fake your death!” she chanted as she pounded on the table, having inherited her father’s drunken enthusiasm and affinity for alcohol.

“Keelah.”

“No, I’m serious!” Tahirah persisted.

“Okay. Assuming that I was able to get rid of the electronic tracker and, I don’t know, find a dead quarian body to stage my death, what happens when they see me out and about somewhere? I know it’s a big city, but it’s bound to happen, especially since T’Lani knows _everyone_. You don’t see that many quarians around here, if any. They’ll know it’s me.”

Tahirah loudly sucked on the straw of her now-empty drink until a passing waitress asked her if she needed a refill. “Easy,” she said, passing the cup to the waitress. “Okay, I don’t mean to sound racist but-- oh my goddess I get where Dad was coming from.” The argument she’d had with Shepard about elcor suddenly made a lot more sense to her alcohol-addled brain.

“Careful, Shep’soni,” Zero warned, but it sounded more like teasing than a serious admonishment. “Treading on thin ice there.”

Tahirah considered how best to voice her thoughts without sounding offensive. “Okay, I’m not saying that all quarians look the same… but I _am_ saying that most other species wouldn’t recognize you if you were in a different suit.”

“Tahirah. Do you know how much I make at this ‘job’?” Her predictable finger quotes caused Tahirah to dissolve into hysterics.

“Is it zero credits?” she interjected between drunken giggles. “I think it’s zero credits.”

“I make zero credits,” Zero steamrollered on. “Zip, zilch, nada. I’m lucky that I live on my best friend’s futon and don’t pay rent, because I work at Noodle House on my weekends off, and that _barely_ gets me enough money to pay for groceries to feed myself. It would take _years_ to make enough money to afford a new suit and mask. Especially one that looks different from this thing. Hell, my contract would probably be up by then.”

“Zero. Babe.” Tahirah placed a hand on her knee. “That’s why you’re so lucky I’m a fashion designer.”

Zero cocked her head at her in a gesture that Tahirah had learned meant “are you kidding me right now.” “An enviro suit, though? There is so much technology involved, it’s not like you’re just sewing fabric.”

“Who _cares_?” Tahirah drew out the word, spinning around on her barstool. “I’ll make it work. I will do. So much research.”

“I know Drunk You thinks this is a great idea right now, but Sober You does not know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Hey. Hey, hey, shh shh shh.” Tahirah leaned across the table and attempted to place a finger on Zero’s mouthpiece. She ended up poking her mask somewhere in the vicinity of her eyes.

“Really glad I have this mask on right now.”

“No, okay, I got it,” Tahirah said, not even listening to the quarian’s muttering. “Do you have an old suit? I could totally modify that, so all the technology is in place.”

“I mean, I have my one from where I was a teenager, but I’ve grown since then, and it’s been repaired so many times...”

“Let me worry about that. It’ll be fiiiiiine.”

“Okay, so, let’s operate on the assumption that you _can_ sew me a replacement suit. What about my voice? In case you haven’t noticed, it’s kind of distinctive. I say two words, they’ll know I’m the quarian who’s supposed to be dead.”

“That’s the easiest thing to fix!” Tahirah exclaimed, slamming her hands on the surface of the table. “Voice changer, duh. I remember shitting myself the first time I heard my mom use her voice changer for work.”

“...Literally?”

“No!” Tahirah swatted Zero’s arm, causing her to laugh.

“Well... ” Zero began, and Tahirah waited with bated breath, sensing a shift in her stance on the idea. “Honestly, I’ve always hated my voice and wished I could change it so… yeah, I could do with a voice changer. There’s just one problem.” She pointed to the electronic bracelet wrapped around her ankle.

“Didn’t you listen to me earlier tonight? I know people who can help with that. I got connections, baby.”

“I believe it.”

Tahirah bounced in her seat, giving a gleeful clap. “See! Not such a terrible idea after all, right? Fake your death! Fake your death!”

“I’ll consider it,” Zero said, a smile in her voice.

“I can drink to that!” Tahirah said, raising her glass, and the two of them clinked and downed the rest of their respective alcoholic drinks.

\---

Getting home was fun. Zero called Tahirah a cab and made sure she was safely inside her apartment before heading home herself, which was probably a wise idea, given Tahirah’s level of inebriation.

When the door shut behind her and Zero bid her goodnight, Tahirah latched onto the wall and began inching her way towards the sofa. After what felt like an eternity (but was, in actuality, only two minutes), she rolled her way over the back of the couch and onto its cushion. She was well into the “warm and sleepy” stage of drunkenness and was feeling incredibly affectionate.

The next day, Tahirah would have no idea how she managed to call up her omni-tool, but somehow, she accomplished it. She opened up a new message to Lillen and began typing, heavy fingers clumsy against the orange glow of the holographic interface.

**Tahirah: I**

**Tahirah: am soo drunk rihgt now**

**Lillen: I can see that ^ww-**

**Tahirah: You are so great, did you kno thatr??/**

**Tahirah: You’re so tealtentedddd, thank you for doning all that fancy tech stuff for me tonightt**

**Lillen: Pfft. You’re welcome, I’m just sorry it ended in disaster OmmO**

**Tahirah: I don even care about that right now. I dno’t even cA RE**

**Lillen: Well, did you at least have a fun night out? o???o**

**Tahirah: HELEL YEA I DID  zero and I got really drunk it was grate.**

She was beginning to drift off, so she snuggled deeper into the couch, nestling her chin against a pillow.

**Tahirah: Andw e came up with a plan. That we need your helps with.**

She let her eyes flutter shut, just to rest them for a few quick seconds before continuing.

A few minutes later, her omni-tool pinged with an incoming message.

**Lillen: Tahirah?**

**Lillen: Are you still there?**

Tahirah was too far gone to respond, snoring softly. The orange light of her device still reflected off of her face, scarcely bothering her in her deep, dreamless sleep.

**Lillen: I'm going to assume you fell asleep. Sweet dreams UwwU**


	5. Chapter 5

Tahirah wasn't usually embarrassed with herself the morning after using mood-altering substances. She was typically a “roll with the punches” kind of gal.

But this time was different. This time she actually regretted drunk texting Lillen and spent Sunday worrying about whether or not it would change things come lunch on Monday morning.

In hindsight, it was foolish for her to worry so much; when she sat down next to Lillen in the rooftop garden, the elcor began talking to her as normally as ever. “Seriously: I saved a man’s life today. What did you do today?”

“Oh my goddess, are you--?“ Tahirah broke off, squinting up at Lillen. “Wait a minute… Are you yanking my chain, Lil?”

“More seriously than I have been about anything in my life, ever: No.”

Tahirah grinned. “Okay, then. How did you save a man’s life today?”

“Narrating: I was washing windows, as one does...”

“As one does, yes.”

“...and there’s an apartment that I hate washing windows for, because its occupant has a habit of sleeping naked.”

Tahirah cackled into her ossilbir salad. “Oh, you poor soul.”

“Melodramatically: It’s awful. Resuming narration: And today he woke up high on something or other, maxx or creeper, I think. And he stumbled over to the window, right next to the one that I am washing. Still fully nude.”

Tahirah was laughing so hard she could feel tears spring to her eyes. “Oh no!”

“Affirmative: Oh yes. Continuing in a conversational manner: He started yelling at someone down in the streets, but they couldn’t hear him. So he called them on his personal communication device. And I just.” She slowly mimed moving her palm across an invisible window. “Preserved his modesty.”

“That,” Tahirah pronounced, “was an amazing story. You really did save his life.”

“Modestly: I try.”

Tahirah smiled, placing her fork down. The story made her realize that nothing had changed between them, but she still felt the urge to address the drunk texting incident. “Listen, about the other night… I’m so sorry, I completely embarrassed myself.”

Lillen simply looked at her for a moment, her expression inscrutable. “Confused: What?”

Of all the reactions that Tahirah had anticipated, this was one she had not considered.

“Dawning realization: Oh, when you texted me while inebriated.”

Tahirah blushed. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“Reassuringly: I didn’t think anything of it. Hesitating admission: I found it endearing, actually.”

She could _feel_ the heat rising in her face, and she touched cool fingers to her purple cheeks. “Really? Well, that’s a relief. I just… I don’t want you to think badly of me.”

“Warmly: I could never think badly of you, Tahirah.” She placed one enormous hand over Tahirah’s, swallowing it up against the rooftop oasis’ concrete center.

It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to refrain from flinging her arms around Lillen. “Oh.”

Lillen removed her hand, busying herself with her lunch once more. “Abrupt change of subject: But you mentioned a plan. Serious inquiry: What was it?”

Tahirah shook her head, shelving her feelings for later. “Okay, well, it sounds ridiculous now that I’m sober, but… I want to help Zero fake her death. It’s the only way out of this shitty situation, and she doesn’t deserve to be a slave. No one does.”

Lillen hummed, a small, soft sound. “Quiet contemplation: That is a bold plan.”

“I know. And I don’t know if we can pull it off, but I want to try. The only problem is -- she has this electronic ankle monitor that tracks her movements. I know she’s tried to get it off before and failed; she says it’s unhackable. But I thought if anyone could succeed at it, it’d be you.”

“Doubting: Well, that’s a tall order… Resolve strengthening: But I’m willing to give it a shot.”

Tahirah clapped her hands together. “Great!” she gushed, overflowing with enthusiasm. “Do you have any ideas? For either getting it off or faking her death, I mean.”

“Ruminating: Nothing immediate comes to mind… but I’ll think about it. Casual compliment: I think it’s admirable that you want to help your friend out of this situation.”

Tahirah’s heart pitter-pattered in her chest, a faint “ba-dum” of attraction. “Oh, I’m nothing special. It’s what any friend would do.”

“Insistently: You are, though. Jaded observation: And that’s not true. People are inherently shitty, no matter what their race is. They keep their heads down and try not to intervene in other people’s lives because it could inconvenience them. Not you.”

 _Goddess_ , Tahirah wanted to ask her out again, but she had tried a second time a few weeks ago, and was rejected again. She was determined to wait until Lillen made a move. And it was the hardest thing she’d ever done.

Oblivious to her internal struggle, Lillen continued. “With a note of finality: I’ll think about this dilemma. For now, it’s time to get back to work.”

 

\---

 

“Back to work” was an ambiguous statement, as far as Tahirah was concerned. She had no idea where her career was going from here (she’d been staunchly ignoring the gossip rags, and she’d rejected every incoming call from her parents, Nissera, her sister Cassie… She was still partially in denial about the catastrophe that was her fashion show, and she was not ready to face the world about it just yet).

She might have had zero idea about the future of her professional life, but at least she had an idea for Zero. Tahirah was determined to make her the best, most fashionable enviro suit, something so drastically different from her current suit, that no one who looked at her would even think to make the connection between the ragged, dirt-broke quarian and the fashion savvy, successful individual.

She dove into research, studying quarian fashion over the last hundred years and sketched countless designs, until she came up with something she was marginally happy with. The prototype process would determine whether or not it would become the final design.

Seeking measurements and color input, she invited Zero over to her office. For good measure, she invited Lillen as well, figuring she could use the opportunity to examine the electronic tracker.

Lillen was first to arrive, given that she worked in the building. Tahirah had planned on this and had actually invited Lillen for ten minutes ahead of time, wanting a moment alone.

“I have a present for you,” she announced.

“Unintentionally rude, as a result of confusion: Why?”

“Why _not_? You always look so drab in… _that_ ,” she said, gesturing vaguely at the olive green overalls Lillen wore at work. “Maybe if it was just a tad brighter. And I know that tool belts and cargo pockets are practical and all, but you’d look so cute with just a little bit of flair...”

“Drolly: Oh no.”

“Oh _yes_.” Tahirah pulled out a periwinkle ribbon, monogrammed with a tasteful yellow L and tied into butterfly bow. “It brightens up your skintone and it even complements those overalls you wear all the time. I had to guess on the measurements, and you definitely don’t have to wear it, but...” She was rambling, and it was a relief when Lillen finally interrupted her.

“Sincerely: I love it.” Lillen slipped the elastic band onto her arm, and Tahirah was relieved to see that it easily slid up to fit snug around her bicep.

Tahirah opened her mouth to respond (“You look beautiful in it”), but before she could say a word, the door slid open and Zero swept into the room. “Guess who has a break of two whole hours?”

“You?”

“Me!” Zero plopped down in Tahirah’s office chair, kicking her feet up onto the desk. “And then I get to pull an all-nighter working on the collection that’s supposed to drop next month. Why I need to pull an all-nighter _now_ , I don’t know, but it’s probably because T’Lani’s going to make me redo half of it.”

Tahirah had always looked forward to the Nos Astra Spring/Summer Fashion Week, especially T’Lani’s contributions, but her time in the city had soured her enthusiasm. “I am so sorry, Zero.”

Zero waved off the sentiment. “Whatever, I’m used to it. And now you’ve gotten my hopes up with all this talk about getting me out, so I’d rather focus on that. What do you need me to do to make this new suit a reality?”

“Measurements! Then Lil can look at your ankle bracelet while we talk colors and fabric. Feet off the desk and stand up, please.”

Zero obliged, holding out her arms while Tahirah circled her like a hawk, measuring tape in hand. She called out numbers and dimensions --inseam, bust, sleeve length, hips-- while Lillen dutifully recorded them.

“Torso: 13 inches,” she finished. “Wow, you have a really long torso. By asari standards, anyway.”

“Hooray?” Zero said, lowering her arms.

“Wryly: If you want to talk about long torsos...” Lillen gestured at herself.

“Okay, okay, I get it, different species, different dimensions.” Tahirah sat down in her chair and started a new document on her datapad.

“Okay, doctor, tell me, can it be removed?” Zero kicked her leg into the air, thrusting her ankle in Lillen’s face. “...Actually, I can’t hold this position,” she admitted when the elcor attempted to look at it. She perched on Tahirah’s desk instead, and Lillen examined the device, using her omni-tool to scan and take snapshots from every angle.

“So.” Tahirah readied her fingers to begin typing up notes for the new suit. “What are some of your favorite colors?”

Zero had her answer at the ready; she didn’t even need to contemplate it.  “Dark purple and light blue.”

“That’s a nice color combination,” Tahirah said as she recorded this information.

Zero sounded sheepish. “Yeah, well… I am a huge fan of Wading Through Forever and those are the colors of Matriarch Delana and Dalatrass Liwan and I… enjoy them. Together.”

Tahirah slammed down her datapad and pointed at her. “Nerd!” she all but screeched, causing Zero to burst into giggles and cover her eyes. “No, my sister and her best friend are obsessed with that show. I’ve never gotten into it, but Cassie practically wrote a novel about WTF last year.”

Zero sucked in a sharp breath of air, excitement oozing from every pore of her being. “Hook me _up_ ,” she said. “Your sister sounds awesome, I have _got_ to talk to her about this and my theory for next season!”

Tahirah couldn’t help but laugh at the déjà vu this instilled in her, all too familiar with this level of enthusiasm.

She was pretty sure she caught the faintest glimpse of Lillen rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “Playfully sarcastic: Fangirls. Genuine interest: But I would be interested in meeting your sister as well.”

Tahirah had a brief vision of bringing Lillen home to meet her family. _“Mom, Dad, Cass… meet my girlfriend_. _”_ The momentary fantasy caused butterflies to flutter in her stomach, and she restrained herself from grinning giddily. “Well,” she said, maintaining a careful display of flippancy. “Maybe someday you both can.”

“Maybe,” Zero repeated, glancing between the two of them. Tahirah just _knew_ that she could feel the unresolved sexual tension between them, so thick that you could cut it with a knife, but Zero chose not to mention it.

Grateful, Tahirah changed the subject. “Anyways. Purple and blue. I have a great idea for a fabric for the decorative parts… how do you feel about qmonos fabric?”

 

\---

 

“Wait until you see my prototype, Lil,” Tahirah said a few days later as she and Lillen entered the office building. “I still need to get the old enviro suit from Zero, but I’ve been working on patternmaking the exterior of the outfit. I drafted up a version of it out of muslin, just to make sure the pattern’s coming out okay, and I’m _super_ pleased with how it’s turning out.”

“Confidently: I’m sure it’s lovely.”

The two of them stepped into the elevator together. Lillen normally reported to work on the main floor, but lately she had gotten into the habit of walking Tahirah to her office in the mornings.

“I mean, I don’t want to brag, but...” Tahirah tried to sound modest. “It _is_ pretty lovely. It’s my first time trying any kind of apparel for quarians, and I...”

She lost her train of thought entirely when she unlocked her office and the door slid open. Her studio was, in a word, trashed. Mannequins were knocked over and the drawers of her desk were pulled out, papers tossed haphazardly around the room. In the center of the room, where she’d been working on her design for Zero’s new suit, the prototype lay slashed, fabric ripped to shreds.

Tahirah couldn’t speak. It was like a switch in her brain had clicked off. She barely even registered the soft, indignant puff of air that Lillen let out next to her.

“Steadily: Tahirah.”

She turned around, following Lillen’s gaze. Splashed across the far wall of the room, in paint the color of human blood, was the word “SLUT.”

It wasn't the first time Tahirah had been called the derogatory term. Even if you didn't count the rougher clients of Afterlife, who threw the word around like it was nothing, she was the flirty type in her school years, and kids could be needlessly cruel. Her younger sister had gotten into outright brawls to defend her honor, even when the accusations levelled against her were true (she didn't _know_ Elnora had a boyfriend, or that he was off-limits).

But none of those other times stung as much as this one did, and her face crumpled like wet cotton.

“Lil...” she managed, wrapping her arms around Lillen’s bicep and burying her face in the ribbon the elcor had taken to wearing every day. “Who would do this to me?” she said, voice muffled by the cloth.

Lillen placed a hand on her back, holding her close. “Worried: I don’t know. Comfortingly: It’ll be okay, we’ll find who did this.”

Tahirah allowed herself a few minutes to stand there, breathing in the scent of Lillen’s body wash (eucalyptus and some kind of flowering plant that could only be found in the grasslands of Dekuuna) and attempting to pull herself together. She was choked up but determined not to cry. She wasn’t going to fall apart again, not the way she did at her disaster of a fashion show. When she was ready to face her destroyed studio, she inhaled a deep breath, steeled herself, and pulled away to examine the wreckage.

“Informatively: I’ll call the police while you poke around and make sure nothing was taken.”

Tahirah nodded, grateful that Lillen was taking charge, because she didn’t think she could detach herself from the situation long enough to deal with the next steps. “My prototype...” she mumbled to herself, bending down to look at the scraps of fabric. There was no way it could be saved; it looked as if it had gone through a shredder. She’d just have to hope that the pattern was among the papers strewn around the room and in one piece.

A photo poked out beneath the nest of tattered fabric, and she brushed the mess aside to get a closer look. It was identical to one of the images that had flashed on the screens that flanked the runway of her short-lived fashion show. She never agreed to any of these photos -- Afterlife had adopted a strict “no unauthorized pictures” policy in the last fifty years or so, and these were recent.

And apparently they were being plastered all over the city to alienate any potential clients before she could establish a classy reputation for herself.

Tahirah ripped the offending photo into miniscule pieces and threw them onto the ground, grinding the color out with the heel of her stiletto.

“Concerned: Are you okay?” Lillen approached her, having just gotten off the phone with the police.

Tahirah threw her arms up in the air. She’d gone from crushing despair to intense frustration in seconds flat. “No, I’m not okay!” she burst out. “What the hell is happening, Lil?”

“Helpless: I don’t know.”

The bluster billowed out of her at that, and she deflated somewhat. “No, of course not. I don’t know either. I’m sorry, I’m just… I’m upset.”

“Sympathetic: That is completely natural. The police are on their way; we’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise.”

Tahirah leaned her head against Lillen’s side. “You’re right. Thank you.”

“In a soothing voice: That’s what are friends for.”

Ouch. Soothing or otherwise, no amount of emotive prefixes could have made that sting any less. She was angling to move past friendship, but if that was all Lillen felt for her -- then, well, she could deal with it.

“Yeah. Friends,” she repeated. She distracted herself by picking through the rest of the debris. As far as she could tell, nothing was missing, and she intended to tell the police officer this when they finally--

The door slid open. Well. That was quicker than she anticipated.

“Oh good,” Tahirah started, but she drew up short when the officer stepped into the light. It had been a few months, but she wasn’t about to forget the officer that her harasser had complained to on her first day in Nos Astra. Partly because of that momentary flash of terror she’d felt when she made eye contact with the female turian, and partly because of her striking appearance. Her plating was two-toned, charcoal grey fading into bone white, and her piercing green eyes mirrored her facial tattoos: thin green stripes on her crest and a spindly, spiderweb pattern that stretched across the middle of her face.

She suspected that the turian recognized her, but she said nothing. Instead, the officer looked around the room and let out a low chitter that Tahirah suspected was the turian equivalent to an impressed whistle.  

“Well, someone really did a number here,” she said. She called up her omni-tool and began scanning the mess. “Neither of you have any idea who could have done this? You didn't piss anyone off recently, did you?” She locked eyes with Tahirah. “And it wasn't that idiot who was harassing you a while back. I know because I had him in lockup for being drunk and disorderly last night.”

Lillen looked at her, and Tahirah didn't need her kinetic processing translator to know that it was a quizzical glance.

“It was before I met you, and just the one time, don't worry,” she told her as an aside before turning back to the turian.“Well, that's good… I'm surprised you even remember that. Or knew that he was being a creep, because I'm sure he didn't paint himself out to be the bad guy.”

“Believe me, I knew. I am the eyes and ears of this city. And as glitzy as it is, I know that it can eat you up for breakfast, especially with the kind of assholes Nos Astra attracts. It’s not the safest place to live, particularly for pretty little things like you.”

Tahirah smiled at that; she could be misinterpreting, but she was reasonably certain that “pretty little thing” meant that she was hot. Which she knew --it was why she chose today to wear a dress with a cutaway back that stretched across the sides, ending in two sharp, coy points of bare skin-- but it was still nice to hear confirmation of that.

“So I do my best to keep a sharp eye out when I’m on duty. I’m just sorry we weren’t able to prevent… this.” She gestured around them. “And you have no leads on who the perpetrator could be?”

“Oh, sorry,” Tahirah said, realizing that she’d failed to answer the question. “No, I don’t, just… someone who wants to ruin my career, apparently. And my reputation, I guess.” She stared at the bright red paint on the wall, her stomach twisting into knots.

“Well, I promise that I will do everything in my power to make sure that this doesn't happen again,” the turian told her, and that lessened the ball of anxiety somewhat. “Is anything missing?”

Tahirah shook her head. “No, just destroyed.”

“Well, thank the spirits for small miracles, right?” The turian surveyed her outfit and the few dresses that were still intact on the mannequins. “You look like a talented designer, I'm sure you can fix these up.”

Tahirah smiled and moved closer to the turian, charmed in spite of herself. “You make a valid point,” she murmured, and if she had hair, that would’ve been where she would twirl it around a finger.

The turian continued, “I’ll write up a report on all this. We’ll increase security around the building, and here...” She pulled a card from the front pocket of her uniform and handed it over. “...is my direct line, if you notice anything suspicious in the future, or if you’re in a bind in general.”

Tahirah glanced down at the card, a sheer plastic plate with the officer’s name and contact information.

“Thank you, officer… Johanis,” she said, touching the turian’s arm.

“Just doing my job.”

“Well, I _really_ appreciate it,” Tahirah said, sweeping her eyes up the turian’s figure. “Also, I _have_ to say something. I noticed this right away the first time I saw you, but you have the most elegant mandibles I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you. I grew them myself.”

Tahirah laughed, surprised by the quip, and Maxidia Johanis bared her needle-like teeth in a small smile.

“I appreciate the compliment, ma’am. I’ll look into this matter. You have a good day now, and don’t hesitate to contact me if you have any new information.”

When the door closed behind the police officer, Lillen spoke up. “Without even the slightest trace of jealousy: She was nice.”

Tahirah’s eyes widened. “What? Don’t be jealous! It’s not like I was flirting with her.”

“Stiffly: I thought I made it quite obvious that I’m not jealous. And yes, you very much were.”

She frowned at the mixed messages. “You’re doing that thing with your translator again.”

“Truthfully: I am most definitely not controlling my kinetic language processing unit. I would never do such a thing and am egregiously offended that you think I would.”

Tahirah exhaled, a small, annoyed huff of air, because that was all the confirmation she needed. “Okay, fine, if I was flirting a little, it’s just because I think it would be handy to have a sympathetic police officer on our side, given the things that we’re planning with Zero.”

Lillen grunted, assenting but quite obvious displeased about it. “Peevishly: I suppose that’s true.”

“And you know what,” Tahirah continued, because now she was aggravated. “You don’t even have any right to be jealous. You said that we were just friends like fifteen minutes ago. It’s not like we’ve been on a date or anything--”

“No, and now I’m not sure I want to.”

It needed no emotive statement prefacing it, and its lack of presence winded Tahirah, as if she was punched in the gut.

Lillen slid off the bow that was wrapped around her arm and dropped it on the floor, where it landed with a soft _whump_. With that, she unceremoniously left the room, leaving Tahirah alone with the tattered remains of her studio and her heart.

She swallowed around the lump in her throat and called up her omni-tool.

“Zero?” she said when the quarian answered with a frazzled ‘Hello?’. “I have had the shittiest day, and it’s not even 10:00. Someone broke into my studio and wrecked it, including the prototype I made for your outfit, and I just got into a fight with Lil and I am _so upset_...”

“Shit,” Zero swore, but it sounded more absent-minded than directed at Tahirah. “Okay, hang on, I’m juggling coffees right now, but sit tight, I’ll be over as soon as I can!”

Tahirah nodded, then realized that Zero couldn’t hear her affirmation. “Okay,” she said allowed. “Thanks Zero, you’re such a good friend.”

“Hey, that’s what friends are for -- to be there for you. Be there soon!” Of course, Zero had no way of knowing how much Tahirah didn’t want to hear those words.

To her credit, Zero was there in fifteen minutes, giving Tahirah enough time to start cleaning up the mess.

“Hold your applause, I’m here now,” Zero announced, sweeping through the door with a tray of six iced drinks. “I’m supposed to be getting coffee, but I have like half an hour until they notice I’m not back and check my tracker. I can make up an excuse for why it took so long -- can I use your fridge?”

“Oh, thank god you’re here,” Tahirah moaned. “And yeah, it’s all yours.” She nodded at the mini fridge under her desk where she kept her lunch.

“Great, thanks.” Zero stashed away the iced coffee and swiveled around to face Tahirah. “Oh. _No_ ,” she said, catching sight of the bright red paint. “Oh, what a _bosh’tet_ \-- hang on, I know how to fix this.”

She hustled back out the door before Tahirah could say a word, promptly returning with two buckets of black and white paint that she picked up from the corner hardware store. “Would you like to do the honors?” She handed over the black bucket to Tahirah, who felt a surge of affection towards her friend.

“I’d love to,” she answered. She popped open the lid and dipped her hand inside, scooping up a dripping fistful of paint. The two of them spent a good long while splattering and sloshing the wall with paint until the offending message was covered and their buckets were empty.

“You know, it actually looks pretty artsy,” Zero said, tilting her head to study their monochrome masterpiece.

“Yeah, it’s actually kind of inspiring,” Tahirah agreed. Violently covering up the ugly word made her feel much better. Not entirely, because she was still on the rocks with Lillen, but better.

“Good. I’m sorry, Tahirah.” Zero wiped off the excess paint from her gloves and hugged her. “Do you know who did it?”

She shook her head. “No idea. The police are going to look into it and beef up security, and that’s actually what me and Lil fought about.”

“...Beefing up security?”

“No. Police.” She sighed and slumped down into her chair. “The police officer was really pretty and I complimented her and _may_ have been a little flirty, and Lil got pissed at me.”

Zero exhaled, the sound mechanical through her mouthpiece. “Oh, Tahirah. Isn’t it obvious? She likes you! She doesn’t _want_ you flirting with other people.”

“Yeah, well, earlier this morning she basically said ‘we’re just friends, I’m being a great friend to you.’ Oh and then she said she doesn’t want to go on a date with me and gave back the ribbon I made her.” She nodded at the bow, which still lay abandoned in the center of the room.

Zero hummed. “It sounds like you guys have some issues to work out. But don’t get down about it. You both like each other, even if it doesn't end up in romance. You're not going to stop being friends because of a silly little fight. She just needs to cool down and stop being so sensitive, and you need to keep the flirty comments to yourself if you want to be with her, you sweet-talker.”

Tahirah sighed. “I know. It's hard, I don't _mean_ anything by it. It's just fun. But I hate that I hurt her... I'll tone it down, and I hope you're right.”

“I'm always right,” Zero said, rolling the chair Tahirah was sitting away from the desk so she could get to her coffees in the mini fridge. “Except when I'm wrong. But now I really have to go, I need to get back to work.” She bumped her mask against Tahirah’s cheek in an approximation of a kiss. “You guys’ll patch it up. Let me know how things go,” she said, already backing out of the room.

Tahirah waved goodbye. “I will,” she promised.


	6. Chapter 6

On the commute home, Tahirah came to a realization. She reason she was so upset about this spat with Lillen was because this was more than just a silly spark of attraction. Lil was more than just a casual object of flirtation, unlike the turian officer. Over the past few months, she’d started to fall head over heels in love with her. She didn’t _want_ Lillen to never go on a date with her. But she was too stubborn to text her and apologize...yet.

Instead, she settled into bed after taking a hot shower, eating dinner (takeout delivered straight to her door), and changing into a nightie. She was going to face the reality of the fact that she was, in fact, in love with an elcor. She couldn’t talk to her parents about it, especially since Shepard had made it clear that she thought the idea of dating an elcor was laughable.

Well… she couldn’t talk to her _father_ about it.

After hemming and hawing for a good few minutes, she finally decided to call her mother.

“Hi, Mom,” she said when Liara answered. She recognized their living room in the background and tensed up. “Is Daddy there?”

“No, she’s in the shower. Why?”

“No reason, just...” She sighed. “I don’t want to talk to her right now. She made fun of Lil, that elcor I told you about, when I told her that I was interested in her. And now I think that it’s not just a crush. I think I’m actually falling in love with her. I don’t know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually been in love before. I’ve always _liked_ people, you know me, I’ve been in tons of relationships, but… this one’s different. And not just because I still haven’t been on an actual date with her. We got in a fight, it’s my fault, and I don’t think she even wants to consider it anymore, and that just… broke my heart.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Liara’s face was sympathetic, and Tahirah wanted nothing more than to reach through the monitor and hug her. She might have been 160 years old, but you were never too old to need your mother. “But people fight; it doesn’t mean she still doesn’t still like you. I fought with your father after she… came back from the dead. I know that I hurt her deeply, but, well, look at us now. We have you and Cassie. You and… what was her name, Lil?” Tahirah nodded, the lump in her throat preventing her from saying anything at the moment. “You’ll make up, I promise.”

“That’s what Zero said too. I hope so,” Tahirah replied, voice raspy. “...Mom?” she said after a few moments of silence.

“Yes?”

“How did you know that you were in love with Dad?”

Liara seemed to consider it. “Well… our relationship was --is-- special. I felt a connection to her from the moment I met her, and I didn’t understand it. I didn’t know if it was romantic or not.”

“I know what that’s like.”

“She always made me feel special. The first time we melded was so she could share her knowledge of the Cipher with me, and that connection was monumental. It wasn’t just the Cipher, I could sense her desire...”

“Goddess, Mom, please don’t.” While she knew that her parents had a healthy sex life, she did _not_ want to hear about this.

“Her desire to do good, Tahirah! By the goddess, that’s not where I was going with this.”

“Oh. Well, good then.” It was clear to them both that Tahirah’s mind was perpetually in the gutter. And purists tried to say that asari didn’t inherit traits from their fathers.

“As I was _saying_. I saw that she was a good person underneath all that...” Liara searched for the right word.

“Assholery?” Tahirah may still have been a little bitter about the elcor incident.

“Not the word I would have chosen, but that works. I saw a side of her that she rarely shows. I saw how close she came to dying, and I realized how much I didn’t want that.”

Tahirah thought about how she would feel if she came to work the next day and learned that Lillen had died, and she felt like a small part of her would die at the news. Even thinking about it hurt, a sharp physical pain in her gut.

“But I think the moment I realized that I was in love with her was after we were grounded at the Citadel.”

Tahirah nodded; she’d heard the stories of her parents’ adventures, and she’d seen the vids made (mostly to laugh at them alongside her father, who scoffed at how much they got wrong and told her the unvarnished truth of everything that happened).

“I saw how bitter and upset she was about the Council’s decision, and I couldn’t stand seeing her that way. It made _me_ upset. I wasn’t the one who was stripped of her command, but it felt like I was. Her feelings were mine, they were more important than my own feelings. I wanted nothing more than to make her feel better, in any way that I could. And I guess that’s when I realized how important she was to me, and how much I really loved her.”

Tahirah nodded again, turning it over in her head.

“I don’t know if that helps you any. Love is hard to define.”

“No, it helps--” Tahirah cut herself off at the sound of a muffled “ _Liara?”_ off-screen. “I have to go, Mom, I love you, bye.” She disconnected the call before Liara could respond. She knew it was childish, but she panicked. She’d make up with her father sooner or later, but right now, she was focusing on figuring out her feelings towards Lillen.

She thought about what her mother had to say. She guessed she could understand that. She was hurting inside, not just because Lillen was mad at her, but because Lillen was upset in general. She didn’t like that she was responsible for this mess, and she desperately wanted to fix it. She just didn’t know how. And she still couldn’t be sure if this was love, or just infatuation coupled with a deep friendship.

This warranted research.

Tahirah pulled up her extranet browser and opened up a new search. She drummed her fingers against her leg, mulling over her choice of words, before typing, “love with an elcor.” And she quickly fell down the rabbit hole that was the extranet. After listening to the hit song “I’m in Love with an Elcor” (which she immediately decided she hated, due to its implications that such a love would be ludicrous), stumbling across several pornographic videos (one of which she bookmarked for later, but that was not the point of this venture, so she quickly exited out of most of them), and reading an article entitled “5 Species You Should Never Let Yourself Fall in Love with” (racist, racist, and even more racist), she ended up on a forum for like-minded asari.

She signed up, willing to jump through the hoops of setting up an account in order to talk to people who understood what she was going through. She hesitated, fingers hovering her keyboard as she tried to figure out what to type. She didn’t really know what she wanted to ask; she just wanted someone to reassure her that her feelings were okay. Finally, she pecked out a new topic.

 **FashionScion:** I think I’m in love with one of my friends. An elcor, obviously, I guess I don’t really need to state that here, but there it is. And I don’t really know what to do about it. She doesn’t want to date. Yet, anyway. I don’t really know what the point of this thread is. I guess I just wanted someone to talk to who gets what I’m going through. Anyone out there who wants to help me sort out my feelings?

 **ElcorRider:** Hi FashionScion, welcome to the forum! I can chat if you need an ear to listen. Yeah, see, ‘yet’ is the key word there. It took my bondmate two years to even agree to go on a first date with me. They take relationships very seriously and don’t like to rush things, so that’s a reality you have to be prepared to live with if you plan on getting with your elcor friend over there.

Tahirah groaned out loud. She knew that two years was nothing in the grand scheme of things, but she was an impatient individual and didn’t want to wait that long. She understood waiting. She did, she was an asari, she knew that her species favored the “long view” approach to new situations, and the elcor shared this view. Asari matriarchs and elcor elders preferred not to rush decisions; it was in their nature. But she was a maiden who wanted to live in the here and now. Yeah, she was going to live for a thousand years, but she was a hedonist at heart and wanted to enjoy every possible second of it.

 **FashionScion:** I mean, I hope it doesn’t take that long to agree to a date. I don’t know if she’s even willing to consider it anymore. We kind of had a fight today. But I don’t want to talk about that. I just… I really like her. I think I love her. I keep thinking about what it’d be like to be with her, and it feels right. But when I mentioned that I was into her, my dad laughed her ass off and my mom confirmed that not everyone gets the concept of being legitimately attracted to an elcor. Which is bullshit.

 **ElcorRider:** _Such_ bullshit, I know. I’m not gonna lie, if you date this girl, you are gonna get those people. You’d think asari would understand, but nope. No matter the species, people are judgmental assholes. Having kids with an elcor is one thing, but being in a committed, romantic, sexual relationship with one is something else entirely. No one cared when I had my first daughter with my bondmate, but then when I invited everyone to my bonding ceremony, wow, suddenly everyone has an opinion and needs to make sure I know it. “Really? Are you _sure_ about that?”

 **FashionScion:** Goddess, tell me about it. I love my dad to pieces, don’t get me wrong, but she was like, “How can you even find that attractive” and wow even thinking about it now pisses me off.

 **ElcorRider:** Oh, believe me, I know. Someone hears an elcor talk, and they treat it as a joke. It’s infuriating. But they’re the ones missing out, because being with an elcor is so special.

Well, that caught Tahirah’s interest.

 **FashionScion:** Oh yeah?

 **ElcorRider:** Oh yeah. Melding with an elcor is such a special experience. I think every asari should meld with an elcor at least once in their lifetime, even if it’s not a part of sex (which is also fantastic, but I digress).

Tahirah felt the heat rise in her face as her brain immediately leapt to the thought of sex with Lillen. She was no prude and definitely not a stranger to sex (goddess, no) in either the asari or the extraspecies sense of the word, but it was different when you were imagining it with someone you cared about.

 **ElcorRider:** It’s so surreal, I mean, you become one with them and can see and hear every ounce of subtlety they possess. It’s so expressive, and no other species can experience that level of connection with an elcor. You can see elcor the same way that other elcor see them, and then can never think of them as a joke again. It’s magical. Who _wouldn’t_ want that?

 **FashionScion:** Yeah… yeah, that sounds. Amazing. You’ve given me a lot to think about, wow. Thank you.

 **ElcorRider:** No problem, hun! I hope things work out with your elcor friend, and I hope I’ll see you around the boards :)

Tahirah logged out and hugged her legs to her chest. That description had triggered something inside of her, and now she couldn’t help fantasizing about what it would be like to merge minds with Lillen and hear that sarcastic wit the way it was intended to sound.

She pulled out her datapad from her purse and opened up a new text message.

**Tahirah: Hey, Lil. I’ve been… thinking about you. And I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking today, it was just kind of a natural reflex. But I really like you and I don’t want to upset you. I’ll try to be better. I’m sorry.**

Several long minutes later, she received a reply.

**Lillen: It’s okay.**

Tahirah gnawed on her lip. She wished she was speaking to Lillen face to face, just so she had the benefit of a translator. Those two words could have any number of subtle meanings behind it -- was it a genuine sentiment, or was it meant to be a terse “I’m fine, which means I’m not fine at all”?

Her datapad buzzed with another incoming message.

**Lillen: <3 <3 <3 **

Tahirah’s heart soared. The former, then.

**Lillen: Sorry for the delay, I’m on my nightly walk.**

Tahirah nodded, remembering that Lillen had mentioned that she often went on walks at night to clear her head. After their argument today, she could understand why she really needed to do that tonight.

**Lillen: But I’m sitting down now, so my full attention is on you. I didn’t really mean what I said. I do still want to think about that date. And I’m sorry I got all petulant and threw away your gift. That was so childish of me OmmO;;**

**Tahirah: No, I totally get it! It was my fault. I still have it -- maybe I can drop it off tomorrow on my way to lunch with Zero?**

**Lillen: Sure! I’ll be at the gym in the morning if you want to swing by there, it’s the one near work ^ww^**

**Tahirah: Great! I’ll see you then <3**

**Lillen: See you then. Sweet dreams <3**

And they were going to be sweet indeed, now that that weight was lifted off of her chest. She tucked her datapad under her pillow and snuggled into bed, still giddy over the exchanged hearts.

She still couldn’t stop thinking about ElcorRider (and _oh_ , she just understood the meaning of that username) and her comments on mating and melding with elcor.

“Mmm.”

She sat back up again and reached for her computer again.

With this new piece of information, she _really_ wanted to check out the video she had bookmarked earlier.

For research purposes, of course.

 

\---

 

Tahirah woke up the next day excited to see Lillen. But she had a mission to complete first. She checked her reflection in the mirror before leaving the apartment. She made sure she looked good today, in a wiggle dress silhouette, a bustline cutout providing a peekaboo of blue skin above the ruched sweetheart neckline. _Good_. She needed to look hot for this.

She took a skycar in the direction of her work building and got off a few blocks before the gym, where she headed into a familiar beauty store. She was well acquainted with it, having popped into it on several occasions before, either to window shop or to restock on cosmetics. Today, however, she swept past the aisles of lipstick and eyeshadow, staunchly avoiding the temptation to poke around in the makeup department.

A neon blue sign glowed above her destination: _Perfume & Fragrances_. She was acquainted with this section of the store, but only marginally -- she stuck with her signature scent, _Ephemerae_ , and wasn’t one for shopping around for other perfumes.

Except for today.

“Excuse me,” she asked the clerk, a bottle blonde human with too much eyeshadow (bright purple up to the eyebrows was not a flattering look on her). “Do you have any of those exotic elcor pheromone perfumes?”

It was an awkward question, but the clerk took it in stride. “Yes, actually,” she answered smoothly, sliding down the counter to a discrete little display that clearly didn’t get much attention. “Can I help you find a particular fragrance?”

“Nope,” Tahirah said, wanting to be alone to examine the scents herself. “Thank you!” The clerk left, giving her the privacy she needed to examine the few types of perfumes that were offered. She spritzed several of them and sniffed the air; she couldn’t tell much difference between the variations; they all seemed similarly musky, but she eventually decided on one called _Eros: Femme._ She suspected that Lillen was attracted to women (most people who were drawn to asari were), so emulating the scent of a female elcor in heat seemed appropriate.

She briefly considered just spraying the perfume on herself and leaving, but guilt won out and she bought a bottle, stashing it away in her jewel-toned emerald purse.

Next stop: the gym.

It wasn’t hard to find Lillen in the weight room, as she stood several heads taller than the tallest person in the room. She was clad only in a pair of sweatpants and a set of terry cloth wristbands, her back barer than Tahirah had ever seen it.

And she looked more attractive than Tahirah could have dreamed of. She didn’t _think_ she had a thing for muscles, but the sight was beginning to make her question that belief.

“Hey, Lil,” she said, sauntering up to her. “You’re looking _good_.”

“Pleased: Thank you,” Lillen answered. Tahirah got the impression that she had intended to say more (“I’m glad to see you, I’m sorry about yesterday,” maybe?), but something held her back. She wasn’t an expert in detecting elcor movements, but she was pretty sure Lillen just sniffed there. “Confused: You smell….?”

“ _I_ smell?” Tahirah said, seizing the opportunity for some playful banter. “I’m not the one working out,” she teased.

“Fumbling to explain: I didn’t mean it like that, I didn’t know how to finish that sentence.”

Tahirah smiled. “You’re cute when you’re flustered,” she said. She pulled the length of ribbon out of her purse. “I brought your ribbon back.” She held the ribbon out, and Lillen lifted her hand off the floor. Tahirah slid it up her arm and re-tied the bow around it, leaning up against her bicep more than was strictly necessary.

“There,” she said, satisfied. “You look beautiful.” She checked the interface of her holographic watch (green today, to match her accessories) and realized she was cutting it fine to her meeting with Zero. “I gotta go, byeeeee,” she said, pulling away from Lillen but allowing her fingers to linger on her arm for just a few short seconds.

Tahirah set off towards the doors of the gym, raising a hand in farewell. She so desperately wanted to look back to see if Lillen was staring at her (“I hate to see you leave, but I love to watch you go...”), but she refrained. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed, but she needed to be strong, if she wanted to win over her lover.

“Bewildered, yet titillated: Bye?”

A grin spread across Tahirah’s face, and she was glad Lillen couldn’t see it. Mission accomplished.

 

\---

 

Noodle House was bustling with activity today, and it took Tahirah a few minutes to find Zero in all of the hubbub.

“Sorry I’m late! Looks like you’re going to have a fun afternoon,” Tahirah said as she sat down across from Zero. The quarian was clad in her uniform for her weekend job, a polo shirt pulled over her usual outfit and enviro suit.

“Tell me about it,” she said, shaking her head. “Interesting perfume, by the way.”

Tahirah grinned. “Elcor pheromones. You like it?”

“Eh, doesn’t do anything for me.” Zero stuck a straw into the bowl of noodles that they regularly shared before the start of her shift. She sucked down a few swallows of broth through her mouthpiece and slid the bowl across the table so that Tahirah could pick out the noodles. Zero couldn’t eat the noodles that she served unless she blended them into a paste or ate them in the sterile environment of the clean room in her apartment, and Tahirah wasn’t fond of broth, so it was an efficient way of sharing a meal.

“But it _does_ do something for Lil, and that’s what matters.” Tahirah winked and slurped up a long strand of noodle.

“You guys make up, then?”

“Yeah. I texted her last night and apologized, and she forgave me. I just stopped by the gym to give her back the gift that I made her, and I _know_ she was into the perfume. You were right, she does like me. And I’m going to make sure that we eventually go on this date, because we clearly both want it.”

“ _Elcor_.”

“Elcor,” Tahirah agreed, grabbing another noodle with her chopsticks and sliding the bowl back to Zero.

“It’ll happen when it’s meant to happen. And not to change the subject, but...”

“No, no, go ahead!” Tahirah hastened to say. “Sorry, I always make everything about me.”

“Shh, you’re fine. I just wanted to tell you that I had a nightmare last night.”

“Oh no! About what?”

“I dreamed that I drowned. Water got into my suit --I don’t know how, dream magic, I guess-- and started filling up my helmet. I couldn’t filter it out, I couldn’t breathe, and I woke up when I ‘died,’” she finished, using air quotes to emphasize the last word.

Tahirah shuddered. “That’s fucked up.”

“I know, right? But it gave me an idea.” Zero furtively glanced around the room. She wanted to make sure no one was listening in on them, but the crowd was too wrapped in their own lives to pay attention to the quarian and asari talking quietly in the corner. “About this plan we want to pull off. Drowning.”

Tahirah hummed thoughtfully, stirring the noodles around in the bowl. “Like in the river, so no one could find you if the ‘body’ gets washed away?”

“Exactly!” Zero said, slapping the table in her enthusiasm over Tahirah being on the same page as her. “Who knows where a drowned body could end up. It could get swept out to sea or eaten by some river monster or whatever. No one’s going to question it if they can’t find my body. And if they just find my suit by the water...”

“They’ll assume you’re dead anyway.”

“Because I can’t survive for long outside of it. Yes.”

“Huh.” Tahirah swallowed down another noodle. “You know, I could see that working. We’d have to figure out the logistics of it so it’s believable and no one sees us staging it, but we could totally pull it off.”

“That’s what I thought!” Zero leaned back in her seat, clearly pleased with herself. Then she glanced at the clock hanging on the wall of the restaurant. “Oh, Keelah, my shift starts now.” She finished gulping down the rest of her broth, leaving Tahirah with a bowl of soggy noodles, which she was more than happy to eat. “I’m sorry we couldn’t hang out longer -- I really need to get out of this life.”

“And we’re going to do that!” Tahirah assured her. “Now go go go go! Good luck with the lunch rush!”

“Thanks, I’ll need it.” She was pretty sure Zero was grimacing behind her opaque orange mask. “See you on Monday?”

“See you on Monday!”


	7. Chapter 7

Figuring out how to approach Zero’s faked suicide was just one other thing Tahirah had to think about. There was still the aftermath of her studio’s destruction to deal with. Sure, the graffiti was covered up, but she was still suffering the loss of her prototype for Zero’s suit and the dresses that had been on her mannequins. The images of her on stage had started popping up around the extranet. Nissera had sent her an email with the caption “????” and a link to a picture of her on the stage of Afterlife, leg hiked up around the pole.

She needed to rebrand herself --she wasn’t going to be known as “the stripper designer”-- but she had no idea how to do that. Maybe if she agreed to an interview with Callista al-Jilani.... but her father had always warned her about reporters skewing your own words to make you look bad.

But then again, she didn’t know how much she trusted Shepard’s advice anymore.

She’d figure that out later. For now, she needed to rebuild what had been lost. Zero’s suit would be put on hold while she remade the dresses that had been destroyed during the attack on her studio (they still needed time to figure out this drowning heist too). If she could just get her name out there and show the world what she could do, then--maybe _then_ \--people would be able to look past their scorn for her previous career and respect her as a designer.

She was so wrapped up in her own ruminating that she almost walked headlong into her favorite turian police woman.

“Oh!” She stumbled back, touching Officer Johanis’ arm in an instinctive apology. “I’m so sorry, Officer!”

“Not a problem, ma’am.” Johanis nodded, touching her forehead in greeting. “How have you been? No more problems, I hope?”

“No, actually, it’s been quiet...” Something clicked in her head, and she pointed at Johanis. “Are you that police cruiser I’ve seen around here the past few days?”

“Yes, I’ve been checking back every now and then to make sure there’s no one suspicious lurking around. So far, whoever’s responsible for ruining your studio is laying low. I suspect they may have also noticed the squad car. But I installed some extra hidden cameras around the building. I regularly work in the camera room for this sector of Nos Astra so I can keep an eye on things.”

Tahirah was floored. After a century on the lawless husk of Omega, the concept of public servants who actually cared about the people they protected was foreign to her. “Oh, gosh, thank you, officer,” she said, unable to hide her astonishment. “And can I just say that I’m so surprised that you’re taking such a personal interest in this?”

Johanis made an embarrassed clicking noise from somewhere in the back of her throat, which she quickly cleared. “Apologies, that was unprofessional. Yes, well, I have a thing about protecting women and asari. I’ve seen too many of them get screwed over in this city, if you’ll pardon my candor.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “You also remind me of my bondmate, so I’m sure that plays a role. I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“Not at all,” Tahirah assured her. She was relieved to hear that Johanis had a bondmate of her own, so that any unintentionally flirtatious comments (which she was actively working on reducing!) wouldn’t be mistaken as pickup lines. “Well, thank you for protecting me. And the rest of us helpless maidens, of course.”

Johanis’ mandibles flared in alarm. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean to insinuate that asari are helpless--”

“Relax, officer,” Tahirah said with a laugh. “I didn’t construe it that way, I promise. I just wanted to say that I really, sincerely appreciate it! Can I maybe take you out for coffee as thanks?” There was that twitch of the mandibles again, and Tahirah rushed to amend the statement. “Just as friends! I know you have a bondmate. I’m actually interested in someone else myself.”

Johanis checked the time on her omni-tool. “Well, I have to report back to the station in half an hour, so I have time for a quick drink. I will take you up on that offer. ”

“Great!” Tahirah said, clapping her hands together enthusiastically. They sat down at one of the many grab-and-go coffee shops that littered the city, Johanis ordering a large black dextro coffee that stood out in stark contrast to Tahirah’s iced skinny hazelnut macchiato with extra whipped cream and a chocolate drizzle.

“So tell me about these cameras,” Tahirah said, sticking a straw into her ridiculous concoction of a beverage.

“Well,” Johanis began, “your building had cameras installed, but they were never updated after renovations a few years ago. Too many blind spots.” She tossed a gulp of hot coffee down her gullet. “And there was only one camera per floor, barring the lobby. That has now been remedied, and there’s an additional camera outside your door. Like I said, I do surveillance work a lot, so I’ll be sure to pay special attention to your cameras.”

“I am _so_ glad to hear that,” Tahirah said, hoping she was expressing her gratitude as much as she felt it. “It must be fascinating, doing that kind of work.”

Johanis chuckled. “Most people say the opposite of that. My bondmate maintains that it’s as dull as watching paint dry. But I agree with you, it is fascinating to work in the camera room. It’s entertaining to see the way people, no matter the species, act when they think no one is looking. Besides, it’s important. You can see and dispatch officers to the scene of a crime before it is even important.”

“Hell yes, that’s important!” The wheels in Tahirah’s head were spinning; she had never considered the many mass surveillance cameras that she knew existed throughout Nos Astra. Since her conversation with Zero, she’d started thinking about the logistics of how they could fake a death by drowning. The obvious option was the river that wound through the ground level of Nos Astra. Bridges joined the various sectors of the city across a number of levels, with many of them overlooking the vast river. There was just the problem of pulling it off without anyone --cameras included-- seeing. She could just imagine video footage of her dumping an empty quarian suit on the bridge and then calling to report a jumper. Not good.

But if she could get a peek at the cameras around the bridges and see if there were any blind spots…

“I’m just nervous,” she slowly said after sipping thoughtfully on her macchiato. “Are you… really sure that there’s enough surveillance in the building? I’m scared they’ll find a way to get through blind spots like they did last time.”

“Tell you what,” Johanis said. “Come visit me at this address...” She pulled out a piece of scrap paper from one of the many pockets on her uniform and scrawled down some numbers and a street name. “I’ll show you so you can see for yourself.”

Tahirah smiled at her. That was better than she could have hoped for. “I’d love that,” she said.

Johanis effortlessly crunched her cup in her fist and stood up. “I’m there all day on Thursday if you want to stop by. Ask for me at the front desk, and I’ll come down and meet you. Thank you for the coffee, and take care, ma’am.”

Tahirah thanked her again for all of her help and pulled out her datapad once she was alone at the table. She started a new group message to both Lillen and Zero.

**Tahirah: I think I may have the beginnings of a plan.**

 

\---

 

“Ma’am?”

Tahirah looked up from her datapad, quickly pressing the “send” button.

**Lillen: At the bridge now. Let me know when you need me to start moving!**

**Tahirah: Will do! ;)**

“Hi! Yes, sorry, I’m here.” She stashed the datapad back in her purse (a minaudiere with a thin silver chain, its satiny finish bright purple to match her lipstick) and hustled over to where Johanis was waiting for her.

The turian ushered her through the turnstile and led her to an elevator, where she called for floor 32.

“Goddess, this is a big building,” Tahirah said, staring at the array of floors listed on the elevator wall, which was clear glass apart from the silver panel that bore the floor numbers. She had found its size staggering from the outside; she craned her neck as far back as it could go and couldn’t find the top.

“It’s a big city,” Johanis replied, folding her arms behind her as the elevator began moving. “It houses our wireless electric grid in addition to all of the security cameras.”

Tahirah thought about the many levels that comprised the city’s layout, and how they spanned several sectors. “Fair point,” she conceded.

As the glass elevator shot upwards, Tahirah could glimpse at each floor. Every level looked identical, with a circular hallway that ran around the elevator at the center of the building. It branched out into a number of rooms, which accounted for the odd architecture of the building's exterior, squares jutting out of places that would be smooth and streamlined on a typical Nos Astra building.

“Arriving at floor 32,” a mechanical voice said, its tone cool but pleasant. The elevator slowed to a halt, doors opening on all four sides to spit them out into the endless loop of a hallway.

“Over here,” Johanis said, leading her to a glass-windowed room. Tahirah had anticipated a lot of cameras, but this was staggering. Vid screens coated the space from floor to ceiling, complicated looking consoles stretching along the walls beneath them. A drell and an asari, both clad in the same uniform that Johanis wore, sat in high-backed swivel chairs. They were too fixated on studying the screens to pay much attention to their entrance or Tahirah’s wave hello.

Johanis headed to a blank monitor, tapping in an incomprehensible string of numbers. Tahirah could see an image jump down from somewhere its spot near the ceiling, the picture replaced by the original black screen.

“So here is the camera installed outside of your door...” Johanis began, but Tahirah wasn’t listening very intently. She scanned the wall. For some reason, she’d expected that all of the cameras for each subset of the sector would be in one room, but that clearly wasn't the case, given the number of rooms per floor. She could not find the bridge that was near her office. She covertly texted Lillen, doing her best to be discrete as Johanis prattled on.

**Tahirah: Move.**

She'd hoped that Lillen’s casual wandering of the bridge would catch her attention, but no such luck. The walls of vid screens were overwhelming, the sensory overload making it impossible to find the cameras she'd hoped to catch a glimpse of.

It was discouraging, but she did her best not to show it when Johanis finished her spiel and asked, “Any questions?”

“Yeah,” she said. “This is incredible, I was going to say, how can one person possibly watch all these cameras, and even three people does not seem like enough, wow.”

“We rotate,” Johanis told her. “Different levels have different numbers of officers. This room is mostly cameras from building interiors and doesn’t have as high a priority as other areas.” Well, that explained why she couldn’t find the video feed that serviced the bridge she had in mind. “Having a drell officer helps as well,” Johanis added, and the drell lifted a hand in acknowledgement, eyes still darting from screen to screen. “An eidetic memory is a very useful trait to have in this profession. We’re trained heavily in how to handle the load of video feeds; I won’t bore you with the details.”

“Well,” Tahirah said. “That is all so super fascinating. Thank you for sharing this with me, it’s an honor to see where you work. I feel so privileged.”

Johanis cleared her throat. “It’s an honor serving you, ma’am. Don’t mistake this for special treatment, though. People can take guided tours of the facility.”

Tahirah raised a brow, the facial markings that so strongly resembled human eyebrows arching in surprise. “Really? Even though every floor looks exactly the same?”

Johanis flashed her needle-like teeth in a quick smile. “I didn’t say it was a particularly long tour. Visiting at least one level and seeing our level of commitment to security puts some of our city’s more paranoid citizens at ease. Although they don’t usually get to go inside the rooms. So that might be a slight bit of special privilege, but it’s definitely not the first time an officer has allowed a civilian they trust to enter the security rooms.”

Oh. Oh, that made her feel immensely guilty. Her datapad buzzed with an incoming message that reminded her strongly of her not exceptionally honorable intentions. Johanis _trusted_ her. She was tempted to spill her guts and apologize for taking advantage of this trust, but self-restraint won out. “Thank you for trusting me, officer,” she said, ignoring the guilt gnawing at her stomach. “And thank you for showing me my cameras, I feel _so_ much safer now.”

“As you should, ma’am. If someone attempts to break into your studio again, we will get him. Or her, I suppose. If this job has taught me anything, it’s that I shouldn’t make presumptive judgments like that. I’m glad you’re a little more at ease now, though. Here, let me escort you back to the lobby...” Johanis guided her out of the room and to the glass elevator.

“You have a good day now, ma’am,” Johanis said when they reached the lobby, and Tahirah thanked her one last time.

When she was back on the well-lit streets of Nos Astra, she checked her datapad.

**Lillen: Did you see me? Did it work? o???o**

**Tahirah: Nope. Hang on, my eye is killing me, let me get this out first.**

It was true; her eye had been smarting for the last fifteen minutes, not used to the technology she had inserted in it before leaving her apartment.

“Stupid piece of shit,” she muttered, popping the contact lens camera out of her eye. Her eye watered at the intrusion, and she blinked away tears as she stored the lens in a small case that she then threw back in her purse. She had such high hopes going into this; she genuinely thought she would be able to record the cameras that overlooked the bridge and use footage of Lillen walking around to determine any blind spots.

Maybe that was naive of her.

It was definitely naive of her.

**Tahirah: The building’s too huge. I’m like 99.9% sure that the bridge cameras are on that floor…**

It had to be, right? The bridge was just a few blocks away, absolutely in the same sector as her building. It wasn’t like it was one of the large suspension bridges between sectors; it was just a small, quaint little bridge that led to an urban park. She’d walked across it dozens of times on her way to meet Zero for dinner or drinks, smiling at the sight of small asari and humans and volus and plenty of other species playing on the structures. It reminded her of her own childhood, her stay at home dad always taking her and Cassie out to the nearby playground.

But she still didn’t want to think about Shepard.

**Tahirah: ...but I still couldn’t find it. The room we went in was pretty much all building interiors, so I couldn’t find you at at all. :c We might need to rethink the blind spot idea.**

**Lillen: We’ll think of something! At least we have footage of what the inside of the building looks like. That could be useful. Don’t worry, we’ll find a workaround for the cameras. ^ww^**

Tahirah smiled down at her datapad, reassured that the trip wasn’t a total bust.

**Tahirah: Yeah…**

She hesitated, wanting to add a heart to the end of her text.

**Tahirah: Yeah. :)**


	8. Chapter 8

Reworking her prototype for Zero’s suit was proving to be more challenging than she anticipated. After the break-in, she’d found her design amongst the papers that littered the floor, but closer examination showed that it had been cut up and mixed with the rest of her equally chopped up patterns. She really regretted using the same drafting paper for every outfit -- she decided that day that she’d invest in various tints of paper for all of her future patterns. If nothing else, it would serve as a visual cue for easily recognizing which sheets went to which design.

She spent a good amount of time trying to separate and piece together her patterns again and eventually gave up and had a good long cry on the floor of her studio.

After getting all of the tears and frustration out, she had a renewed resolve and decided to just scrap the pre-existing pattern all together and draft a new one. She could remember what the old one looked like well enough, having thankfully sketched her initial design concepts on her tablet.

“You know what,” she said aloud, having gotten in the habit of talking to herself when no one else was around. A childhood neighbor and her sister’s best friend, October, had told her that she reminded her of her salarian father. The sentiment was echoed by Shepard, who compared her process of thinking aloud to Mordin Solus, who often puzzled over problems out loud. She was an auditory learner, like many a great salarian. “I’m glad this happened. I mean, fuck that asshole who ruined all my shit, but maybe it was a blessing in disguise.” She compared the pattern she was working on to the quarian sloper she had made to fit Zero’s measurements to check for any adjustments she needed to make. “This is going to be even better than my first pattern.” She had been leafing through quarian models to see what (mostly) unsuited quarians on Rannoch were wearing, and it gave her some new ideas that she wanted to try out with Zero’s new look. Mostly she was excited to start working with the fabric she had in mind, but that would have to wait until she finished the muslin draft of the outfit and got the original enviro suit that she would be working with.

Her omni-tool lit up with an incoming audio message, and she checked the caller id and saw that it read “Daddy.”

“Not today, Dad,” she said and declined it. A minute later, a notification of a new voicemail popped up. She heavily considered just deleting it without listening but decided she might as well give it a listen. She could always delete it afterwards if it really pissed her off.

She hit the play button and Shepard’s voice filled the room. “Hey Tahirah, it’s Dad. So it’s been a few months since we talked.”

Tahirah was reminded, as she so often was, about the swear box Liara had installed in their house when she was young. Her Auntie Jack had accidentally (allegedly, anyway) taught her her first swear words, and every time she used one of those words within earshot of her mother, she had to put a toy in the box. Every time _Shepard_ used one of those words, she had to put a bottle of liquor in the box. Neither of them were particularly happy with the system. When Liara had finally agreed that they could abolish it, the two of them lit the box on fire in the backyard and celebrated.

“I haven’t called because I figured you’ve been busy. You’re an adult, you have your own life now, you don’t always have the time to call your dad, I get it. But your mom says that you’re mad at me.”

Tahirah groaned out loud, an “uggghhhh” of frustration at her failure to tell Liara to keep that information to herself.

“I’m sorry I was an asshole, okay? That’s just who I am.”

On some level, Tahirah could understand that. She was a flirt, and as her recent fight with Lillen taught her, it was hard to change something that was a big part of who you are. “But you could still try,” she told the voicemail.

“I get why you’re pissed. But let me make it up to you -- call me back, okay?”

Tahirah scowled at nothing in particular. “No,” she said, exhibiting the mulish stubbornness that ran in the family, and deleted the message.

A few hours later, she was still stewing in her displeasure when she sat down next to Lillen in their usual lunchtime rooftop oasis.

“Concerned: What’s wrong?”

“You can tell something’s wrong?” Tahirah wasn’t sure whether she should be touched that Lillen noticed or embarrassed that she was so bad at keeping her feelings under wraps.

“Amused: you’re non-elcor. You have all the subtlety of a fireworks display.”

“Touché,” Tahirah said. She pulled out her lunch, varren skewers from Fish Dog Food Shack, the chunks of meat marinated in their galactically famous Tummy Tingling Tuchanka Sauce. “It’s nothing, I’ve just been having this fight with my dad recently. She said something really insensitive a while ago and I haven’t been able to forgive her for it. She called and left a voicemail earlier today that basically amounted to ‘Sorry I’m an asshole, but there’s nothing I can do about it.’ That doesn’t count as a proper apology, and I’m not ready to forgive her yet anyway.”

Lillen chewed on her own lunch of hydroponic vegetation. “Seeking clarification: You didn’t pick up when she called?”

“No,” Tahirah said through a mouthful of varren meat. “I’ve been kind of avoiding talking to her, which I know is childish, but also I don’t really care.”

“Cajoling: You should talk to her.”

“Have you talked to your family lately?” Tahirah countered.

“Sheepishly: No.”

“There you go, then. I’ll talk to her when I’m ready.”

“Addendum: But I’m not on good terms with my family. You clearly love your family a lot. You should at least give her the opportunity to apologize properly. Curious: What did she even say?”

Tahirah sighed. “It’s not something I want to talk about just yet.” Largely because she didn’t want to scare Lillen off by telling her that it was about her wanting to woo an elcor, namely Lil herself. “And I know, but… it was mean.”

“Playing devil’s advocate: But she isn’t always mean, right?”

“No, she’s a good person, don’t get me wrong, look at everything she’s done.” She chose not to mention the less than honorable things Shepard had done in the name of the greater good. “She just kind of really lacks tact sometimes.”

“Contemplatively: Hmm. Tell me about a time when she was nice.”

Tahirah had to laugh at that. “Goddess, look at you. What are you, my psychologist?. ”

“Mildly correcting you: No, I just don’t want to see you make the same mistakes that I made and alienate your family.”

“That’s sweet of you,” Tahirah said. She thought about the request for a few moments while she silently chewed on her lunch. “Okay, I have one. It’s from when I was really little, like 150 years ago.” A thought occurred to her, and she tried to figure out how she could best phrase it without freaking Lillen out. “But you know, it would be easier if I could just show it to you instead of trying to tell it. If you’re… okay with it… I could meld with you and show you my memory.”

She waited with bated breath for Lillen’s response, but it wasn’t forthcoming.

“It wouldn’t be like, in a sexual or romantic way or anything,” she added, willing her cheeks not to burn purple at the thought. “I wouldn’t even be going in your mind at all, it’d be totally one way. I’ve done this with all of my family before. I promise that with asari, sharing memories is totally a thing done between friends, you wouldn’t be committing to anything. That kind of melding waits until after the first date.” She hoped the lightheartedness of that would ease the tension that had suddenly sprout up between them.

“Truthfully: In that case, then I’d love to see your memory.”

Tahirah grinned with relief. “Great!” They both put their lunches down, and Tahirah shifted directly across from Lillen. She reached out to rest her hands on top of hers. “You don’t need to embrace eternity for this. Just relax and let me share this memory with you.” She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, her sclerae were black, pupils blown out, and all the color had drained out of her irises, which so strongly resembled her father’s periwinkle eyes.

\---

She was seven years old, three years too young to start schooling, and spent her days at home with her father and three-year-old sister. The three of them had settled into a daily routine that worked well, and part of that routine involved getting out of the house for a few hours. When a week of rainy days cropped up, tempers flared and nobody was happy.

Shepard was in their living room, serving as a human jungle gym for her younger daughter. Tahirah had slipped away unnoticed and was in her parents’ bathroom, trying to get her hands on Liara’s lipstick. For some reason that future Tahirah could not divine, she had decided to use her developing biotics to accomplish this, instead of her hands.

“Tahirah!” Shepard shouted from the other room at the sound of the loud crash.

“I’m okay!” she called back, picking through the mess of makeup and bathroom paraphernalia.

“What did you break?”

“Nothing!” It was the truth, too, it didn’t look like anything had _broken_ , per se. “Keep playing with Cassie.”

She heard an indignant shriek of “Noooooo!” from Cassie from the other room, presumably in response to Shepard telling her to get down.

It wasn’t her problem.

“Come here, Sangria,” she said, adopting a high pitched voice to coax the family space cat over to her. She managed to paint purple tiger stripes onto her deep red, velvety-skin and adorn Sangria’s crest with blue squiggles before the asari-bred creature escaped her grasp with a plaintive yowl.

With her model gone, she turned to decorating her own face, imitating her mother’s deft hand at applying purple lipstick. “Five little pyjaks, swinging in a tree,” she began singing, “teasing Mr. Krogan, you can’t catch me! Along came Mr. Krogan, angry as can be, and snatched that pyjak out of the tree! Four little pyjaks, swinging in a tree....”

She heard her sister’s voice chime in humming and looked up to see Cassie sitting on top of Shepard’s shoulders, tangling her fingers in short ginger curls.

“Oh no,” Shepard said, needing a full minute to take in the scene. Tahirah was sitting in the middle of the bathroom floor, surrounded by the contents of the bathroom counter -- hand soap was pooling on the white tile, the box of what the girls called “underwear cushions” and Shepard called “manhole covers” were strewn about, and Liara’s assortment of makeup was everywhere. Tahirah was carefully applying a heavy layer of Liara’s favorite light purple lipstick, although she was having trouble staying within the lines.

When Shepard was able to speak again, she didn’t know what question to ask for. “What is all over your face?” she finally asked, putting Cassie down and rubbing her forehead.

“I’m making myself look pretty like Mommy,” Tahirah said matter-of-factly, and Shepard had to stifle a laugh. In retrospect, she did look ridiculous slathered in Liara’s makeup.

“First of all, you don’t need makeup to look pretty, and second of all, you know you’re not supposed to touch Mommy’s stuff anyway,” Shepard replied, picking up a palette and wincing at the broken chunks of eyeshadow. Cassie mimicked her, grabbing a tube of lipstick and examining it with interest. “Care to tell me how you playing with things you’re not allowed to use turned into this mess?”

“I was just trying to get Mommy’s lipstick!”

Shepard closed her eyes and mentally counted to ten. “So instead of picking it up with your perfectly functional hand, you decided to use your biotics and pull down everything in a two foot radius. Okay. And Sangria?”

“She wanted to look pretty too!”

“Yeah, I’m sure she did. Don’t put makeup on the cat. Just. Just dress her up or something next time you want to make her pretty, that makes her slightly less miserable.” Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of something purple, and she whipped her head around to see Cassie scrawling on the walls, a trail of violet scribbles in her wake. “No, no, no, no, Cassie, no!” She swooped in to snatch the tube of lipstick out of her hands before rounding on both daughters. “Okay, no, you know what? Both of you, go sit on the couch and don’t even _think_ about moving until I get out there.”

Tahirah’s eyes promptly welled up. She was perfectly aware of how susceptible Shepard was to tears, having cried her way out of many a sticky situation.

“Daddy’s mad,” Cassie whispered to her big sister as Tahirah took her hand and they slunk out of the room, making themselves look as pitiable as possible in the hopes of softening their father up.

“Don’t worry,” Tahirah told her when they were out of earshot. “Daddy never stays mad for long. She loves me too much.” They climbed onto the living room couch, where Cassie began playing with her stuffed volus toy. Tahirah hung over the back of the couch so that she could stare out the floor-to-ceiling windows that spanned the length of the living room.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a few minutes, the clouds broke and sunshine replaced rain. She smacked Cassie to get her attention, and any tears were soon replaced by equal excitement.

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” they both started shouting, until Shepard bellowed back from the other side of the house.

“ _What_?”

There was a moment’s silence as they decided how best to answer. Then their voices started up again as both girls tried to speak at once, resulting in an unintelligible babble.

Unable to make heads or tails of what they were saying, Shepard stalked into the living room, a soap-soaked towel in hand. “What is so important that you have to yell across the house for me? Next time, just come to me.”

“But you said we couldn’t move from the couch,” Tahirah pointed out, and a wide-eyed Cassie nodded fervently.

Shepard exhaled. “Fair point. That’s my fault. What’s so important?”

Cassie pointed to one of the large windows. “Sun, sun, sun, sun!”

“Can we go outside, pleeeeeease?” Tahirah begged.

Shepard turned to look out the window herself, blinking in surprise. “Well. Yes. Yeah, let’s do this.”

They bundled up in raincoats and booties and walked to the nearby park, where Tahirah immediately climbed onto the swings and Cassie began playing in the sand alongside a bright blue asari her age. Shepard sat down on a bench to chat with the salarian father of the other asari. Tahirah had no idea what they were talking about, she was too absorbed in trying to swing high enough to touch the trees with her feet.

From the sandbox, a high-pitched, indignant shriek cut through the air, and both parents whipped their heads around to find its source. Tahirah dragged her heels on the ground to bring herself to a grinding halt.

Cassie’s teal fists were balled up, the orange markings on her brow furrowed in childish anger. A small krogan stumbled backwards and fell on his rear. For a few seconds, he was too surprised to react at all, but once the reality of being headbutted kicked in, he began bawling. He climbed back to his feet, nothing wounded but his pride, and charged off to find his parents. The salarian’s daughter giggled, her hands over her mouth, and he immediately chastised her with an aghast "October!"

Shepard, meanwhile, had burst into surprised laughter. "That's my girl!" she said, her voice brimming with pride. "Good job, Cassie, show that bully who's boss!"

"Good _job_?" It was at that moment that Shepard realized the salarian was staring at her with an expression of mingled shock and chagrin.

"What?" She exclaimed, spreading her hands wide in defense. "It was funny! He didn't know what hit him, and he kind of had it coming."

"Are you sure this is behavior you should be encouraging?"

"Hey, she's one-eighth krogan and one-half Shepard, headbutting's gonna happen occasionally. Besides, Shepard-T'Sonis fight back. If someone's being an ass to them then yeah, I expect my daughters to put them in their place. Sometimes that involves words and being peaceful and shit, but sometimes it means smacking someone who deserves it. Cassie hasn't mastered her words yet, so how else do you expect her to stand up to a bully?"

"I suppose we'll have to agree to disagree on appropriate parenting methods, then."

“I guess we will. Beanpole.”

Now Tahirah was angry, filled with a childish fury that someone had been picking on her little sister without her knowledge. She climbed off the swings and stormed over to the tiny krogan, placing her hands on her hips in indignation.

“Hey!” she shouted, and the krogan turned his face towards her from where he had buried it in his mother's robe. “You were mean to my sister!”

“So?” he demanded, having clearly gotten over his outburst.

“So no one messes with my sister!” she shot back, pulling back one biotically charged fist--

\--only to have her father scoop her up by the underarms and set her down behind her.

“Daddy!” she protested.

“Sorry, kiddo, but someone once told me you can't bludgeon your way through bureaucracy. And as much as I hate to admit it, they were right -- I mean, you can certainly _try_ , but you can't always bludgeon your way through every asshole you ever meet. As admirable as that goal is. Sorry,” she said to the krogan’s mother, glancing over her shoulder, “but your son dumped a bucket of sand and rocks over my kid. That was kind of an assholish move.”

The anger fizzled out of her, blue dark energy dissipating. “Okay.”

Shepard crouched down to kiss the top of her head. “I'm proud of you for sticking up for your sister, though.” She took Tahirah by the hand and led her back to the sandbox, where the salarian was squinting at her through judgmental narrowed eyes.

“Sorry, Salum,” Shepard said, “but nobody messes with my girls. Come on, let's go get some lunch.”

Tahirah clapped her hands together. “Lunch, lunch, lunch, lunch!” she started chanting, Cassie joining in with a refrain of “lun, lun, lun, lun!”

“Alright, ladies, got your tickets to the gun show?” Shepard asked, flexing her arms and squatting to their level.

“Yes!” Both girls giggled, each of them latching onto one of her arms.

“One, two, three… hup!” She stood up so they dangled from her arms, screaming in delight. “Later, beanpole,” she told the salarian. October waved to Cassie from where she had buried her feet in the sand, and the Shepard-T’Sonis began their march homeward.

\---

Tahirah opened her eyes to find Lillen looking at her.

“Affectionately: You were an adorable child.”

“Thank you,” Tahirah said, pulling her hands away before the moment became too charged for her to deal with. “That probably wasn't the best way to show her better side.”

“Fairly: You and your sister were being kind of terrible at first, though…”

“True.”

“...and I think the latter half shows how much she cares about you, in spite of all that roughness.”

“I know.” Realistically, Tahirah knew Lillen was right. “Just… let me be mad at her for a little while longer, okay?”

“Acknowledging: Okay. Warmly: Thank you for sharing that with me.”

“Of course,” Tahirah responded. She wished that the melding had been more intimate, more of a two-way exchange, but for right now, opening herself up like that was enough to satisfy her urge to be close to Lillen.

She sighed and scooted over to sit next to her and resume picking at her lunch. Broadcasting that memory into Lillen’s mind had taken more out of her than she had expected. Older memories were more draining to dredge out of the depths of your mind, and that was an _old_ memory. “So… what did you think of last night’s episode of Wading Through Forever?” she asked, changing the subject.

They had both started watching the serial show at Zero’s behest and had found themselves strangely invested in it. Tahirah had called Cassie to tell her this news, which had caused her younger sister to shriek in exuberance, “I told you it was the best show! You always made fun of me, and look at you now, I _knew_ you’d like it!” Not much had changed since their childhood, except for Cassie’s much expanded vocabulary.

Truthfully, Tahirah didn’t much care about what Lillen had to say at the subject. She just wanted to listen to her talk, her droning voice oddly soothing.

“Animatedly: I thought it was good. I couldn’t believe that Delilah was Liwan’s long lost adoptive sister, that was the plot twist of the century...”

She rested her head against Lillen’s side, letting her eyes close for just a brief second.

“Gently questioning: Tahirah?” Lillen nudged her awake.

“Oh my goddess,” Tahirah said, sitting up straight with a start. “Lil, I’m so sorry, I totally just nodded off there.”

“Ruefully: Am I really that boring?” Lillen asked.

“No!” Tahirah hastened to say, shaking her head fervently. “I haven't been sleeping well, and I was just tired after all that melding. Sorry, I guess I just… feel comfortable enough to fall asleep around you.” She gave a sheepish shrug.

“Touched: That is the greatest compliment you could give an elcor.” They were herding creatures by nature; while they could sleep standing up (a natural defense mechanism evolved from the prehistoric need to wake up and escape carnivorous predators), they could only get the REM sleep necessary to survive by laying down. Even in modern day and domestic settings, elcor still needed to feel safe enough before they could lie down and sleep deeply. “I’m glad you feel safe around me.”

Tahirah smiled and nudged her head against Lillen’s arm in an affectionate gesture. “Of course I do, Lil,” she said. “Of course I do.”


	9. Chapter 9

That night Tahirah slept more deeply than she had in months. No tossing and turning for hours on end, no needing to get out of bed in the middle of the night for a glass of water, no waking up at the slightest noise of city life.

Which is why it stood to reason that she would be woken up in the dead of night by an incoming phone call.

She kept her portable communication device, an extension of her omni-tool, on her nightstand for moments like this, but she had never actually been woken up by a 2 A.M. phone call.

Until now, anyway.

She jolted awake as the device sounded and lit up, a holographic beaming up the name and number of the person calling. She had been in the middle of a dream about falling through a tunnel of bizarre dress designs, and was bleary-eyed and sluggish from the interruption. She struggled to a sitting position and fumbled to accept the call.

“Zero?” she asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and squinting at the projected image. The quarian’s face took up the screen, orange mask only barely showing the white silhouette of her eyes. “What’s wrong? It’s 2 A.M.”

“I know,” Zero whispered, her voice a low croak, and Tahirah could tell that she had been crying. “I know, I’m so sorry...”

“No, don’t apologize!” Tahirah said, much more alert now that she knew that something was wrong. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Zero swallowed, the gulp audible even through the screen. “No. It’s not just one thing, it’s everything. I hauled a hundred pounds of gowns through the city today, only to get yelled at because it rained on them. Even though they were in plastic bags and didn’t even get damaged. The fuck was I supposed to do, keep it from raining? Like I can control the weather. I was here until 10:00 sewing sequins onto the collection that we’re getting ready for the runway, only for T’Lani to decide that she hated the color.”

She sniffed, and Tahirah’s heart ached for her. “Zero, I’m so sorry, that’s awful-- wait,” she cut off her sympathy when Zero’s words fully registered in her sleep-addled brain. “ _Here_? Zero, please tell me you’re not still at T’Lani.”

Zero nodded her head, clearly miserable. “I needed to figure out what colors looked good on all of the models’ skin tones and get that approved. I got yelled at again for disturbing T’Lani late at night, but I would have gotten yelled at even more if I did it in a color that she didn’t approve first, so I just can’t win. I've spent the last three hours working, and all I've done is the patterning, and I can't stop crying.”

“Oh my goddess. Honey, get some sleep -- fuck T’Lani, the dresses will still be there in the morning. Fashion Week is still a few weeks away, right?”

“I can't,” Zero said, her voice dripping with despair. “She needs to come in tomorrow and see something that's at least wearable. Probably so she can tear it to shreds and tell me exactly what I need to do differently on the final iteration.”

“Zero, if you keep up like this, you’re actually going to kill yourself.”

“I know. I can’t keep doing this, Tahirah. I can’t.” Zero slid down the wall she was sitting against, face disappearing half out of view. Tahirah could just barely see her slide her hands up over her mask to cover her eyes.

She just wanted to reach through the screen and hug her best friend. “You won’t have to keep doing this,” she said, keeping her voice assured and confident for Zero’s benefit. “I _promise_ , we will get you out of this -- I’m going to get that old suit from you and I’m going to make you something beautiful and totally different and no one’s going to recognize you in it. Just give me a week.” She hesitated, reconsidering her words. Enviro suits had a _lot_ of technology, and she had no idea how much of it would need to be rush ordered and replaced. “Maybe two,” she modified. “But I promise you that you will be fake dead and real freed before Fashion Week.”

Zero said nothing and just nodded, too long for it to be entirely natural. It was the desperate nod of something struggling to maintain a grip on their sanity.

“And as for tonight, you’re going to get through this. You know why? Because I’m coming down there and helping. You’re going to give me your patterns, tell me what needs to be done, and then you’re going to sleep.”

“No, oh no, Tahirah, no, that’s not why I called,” Zero immediately began protesting, but Tahirah raised her voice and overrode her.

“ _Yes_ ,” she insisted. “Zero, you’re running on fumes right now, any work you do is not going to turn out well, and I mean that in the most loving way possible. You need to rest.”

“Keelah, Tahirah, I want to take you up on this, but you can’t come here. You’ll set off the alarms, the security’s so tight, and they’d kill me if they found out you touched anything.”

Tahirah pursed her lips, thinking. “Do you _have_ to work there, though? Can you just… grab everything and go back to your apartment?”

Zero sat up a little straighter from where she was slumped against the wall, her confidence at least slightly bolstered. “I mean… I guess. She’ll complain about it stinking like quarian and make me take it to the cleaners, but I could live with that.  I don’t know how I’d get it all over there, though. I can’t afford a taxi, and there’s no way I can lug everything over there, especially since I’d need to take a sewing machine with me too…”

“Don’t even worry about that,” Tahirah told her. “I’ll bring my own sewing machine with me. Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to sit your ass down for ten minutes and take a breather. Then you’re going to start hauling everything down to the lobby. Take a few trips if you need to, just get it all by the front door. I’ll be there with a taxi in…” She ran some mental calculations, factoring in the time she needed to get ready. “…half an hour. Maybe a little longer, I don’t know, but I’ll be there as soon as I can with a taxi. And don’t even think about arguing,” she added, sensing that Zero had opened her mouth to belabor the point. “This is happening.”

Zero was silent for a few moments. “Thank you,” she finally said, choked up with emotion.

“Don’t thank me, it’s what any friend would do.”

Zero shook her head fervently. “It isn’t, though! It’s what any friend _should_ do, but come on, how many people would actually get up in the ass crack of night to break someone out _and_ volunteer to sew for them on barely any sleep? People say they’d do that, but when it comes down to it, very few friends would actually be willing to go through with it. Or if they did, they’d resent it. It takes a true best friend. I don’t deserve you,” she said, voice thick with emotion.

“Don’t start crying on me now, Zero’Tenn.” Tahirah wagged a finger at her, which garnered a blubbery laugh. “I’ll be there as soon as possible, okay? Just hold on for a little while longer.”

Zero nodded, and Tahirah disconnected the call. She was still exhausted, the lack of a full night’s sleep hitting her hard, but she knew it was nothing compared to the levels of fatigue that Zero must be dealing with. Besides, she had a plan for addressing that.

First things first, though, she needed to get out of her nightclothes. The polar opposite of her sister, she had always preferred dresses and skirts to pants, but the occasion called for dressing like a denizen of the night: tight black pants, a black high-necked shirt and cropped jacket, gloves, and a black skull cap that hugged the shape of her crest. She had fond memories of that hat, having worn it a hundred years ago for a similar attempt to bust out a friend (she and Cassie had joined forces to sneak October out of her house, violating the terms of her grounding so that they could all attend a wild house party). A swipe of black lipstick and some blue concealer to hide the dark circles that formed under her eyes when she didn’t get a solid night’s sleep, and Tahirah was all set.

No one ever said that you couldn’t look good when you were pulling off a heist.

Not wanting to wait on the streets of Nos Astra in the dead of night, she called a cab to her door. In spite of the late hour, it didn’t take long for a cab to arrive; several bars were open 24/7, and many citizens in Nos Astra didn’t crash until 4:00 in the morning, hungover and sweaty from a long night of partying.

It sounded pretty ideal to Tahirah, but as someone who was trying to eke out a living for herself, she couldn’t afford to be a part of that crowd anymore. Maybe once she was more established… she could dream, at least.

“Hi, thank you so much,” she said, climbing into the backseat of the taxi. An elcor was crammed behind the driver’s wheel, a custom dashboard in his lap, the device made to accommodate his large fingers.

“Feigned congeniality: Welcome. Where can I take you today?”

“The T’Lani building, actually,” Tahirah said, giving him the address. The elcor grunted in response, and the skycar lifted up to begin its journey.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m going there this late at night, dressed like this?” Tahirah asked, her voice unnecessarily loud from all the stimulants she had ingested in an attempt to wake herself up.

“Bluntly: No.” The elcor had clearly seen far more unusual things over the course of his career of picking up weirdos on the street.

“I’m going there to bust out my friend.”

“Emotionlessly: I don’t care.”

Tahirah leaned forward, poking her head between the driver’s seat and the passenger’s seat. “You aren’t even slightly curious about this adventure?”

“Honestly: No. With barely contained aggression: Stop talking.”

Tahirah frowned and sat back in her seat. “Okay, Mr. Grumpy Gills. Jeesh, last time I try to engage a public servant in conversation.”

“With the utmost displeasure: I don’t have gills.”

“Slats, then. Lips. Whatever you call your mouth things. Oh, I should ask Lil what they’re called. See, I have a not-girlfriend, she’s an elcor too, and she’s a thousand times nicer to be around than you are. You, sir, are a grouch. Elcor the Grouch.”

“Irritably: Are you sure you want to insult the person who is driving you somewhere?”

Tahirah raised her hands in a placating gesture of disbelief. “Fine, forget I said anything.”

She kept her mouth shut for the rest of the trip, much to the driver’s relief. They pulled up in front of T’Lani, and Tahirah could spot the glow of Zero’s mouthpiece through the glass door.

“Okay, can you do me a huge favor and just stay right here for two seconds?”

“Rudely: I’m not leaving until you pay me.”

“Great!” Tahirah said brightly. She slid open the door and ran to the door, crouched over in a hunchbacked attempt to be sneaky.

Zero pushed the front door open. “Don’t come inside!” she hissed, rolling a luggage trolley out on the sidewalk. Tahirah nodded, wildeyed, and grabbed the side of the trolley and pulled it over to the taxi.

“Pop the trunk, Grumpy Gills!”  she called. For all of his grouchiness, he complied, and she and Zero began loading the bins of materials and hangers of fabric into the back of the car.

“Grumpy gills?” Zero whispered.

“He’s a really grumpy elcor,” Tahirah said by way of explanation. “I don’t know what their mouth slats are called, and he got offended when I called them gills. Who knew elcor were so touchy?”

“ _Elcor_ ,” Zero said, a grin in her voice.

“ _Elcor_ ,” Tahirah parroted. “Just so you know,” she stage whispered to the elcor as she slid into the backseat. “You are not complicit in a robbery or anything, even though it kind of looks that way.”

Zero swatted her on the arm and climbed into the cab behind her. “That’s exactly what a robber would say.”

“Expressionlessly, but entirely serious: You could kill a man in front of me right now and I wouldn’t care.”

“Right ray of sunshine, you are,” Zero said, sliding the door shut behind them.

“I know!” Tahirah said, bouncing in her seat in excitement over Zero echoing her feelings about the elcor. “He’s a good driver, but _wow_ , is he grumpy. Give him your address and let’s get this show on the road.”

“Thank you,” Zero told Tahirah once they rose in the air and were on their way downtown. “Keelah, you must be beat…”

“Oh, I’m fine!” Tahirah said, then quickly dialed back the volume at Zero’s wince. “I took two Videlicet and washed it down with a can of Tupari and two Thresher energy drinks. Don’t tell my Dad.”

“I thought your dad drank Tupari?” Zero asked, tipping her head back against the cab’s headrest. The white silhouette of her eyes vanished as she closed them.

“Oh, the ads all _say_ that Commander Shepard drinks Tupari, but that’s bullshit. She’s just never done anything about it because she thinks it’s hilarious. No, I meant the Videlicet – it’s not like I’m abusing it or anything, but she’s so against any kind of drug.” She thought back to the first time Shepard found out that she was using drugs recreationally, some hundred-odd years ago. That conversation had not gone well. “I don’t know if you’ve ever seen the vids, but she had a major drug problem when she was growing up on Earth. She’s always been worried that she passed it on to me. Like, she’s afraid that I’m going to get addicted to something and ruin my life, because the only reason why she’s still alive is because she was able to escape that life by joining the military. I keep telling her it’s not going to happen to me, and I’m better than I used to be, but…” She shrugged. Shepard’s militant disapproval of her using drugs had always bothered her when she was younger, but hindsight made her realize that it was because her father cared about her so deeply.

It almost made her feel bad for being upset with her over the elcor conversation.

Almost.

Zero’s apartment was lower in the city than Tahirah had ever been. The cab driver dumped them off directly outside the front door, and she gave him a generous tip (“for putting up with my overstimulated ass,” she informed him). The apartment building was small for a city building, and while it lacked elevators, they only had to lug everything up two flights of stairs.

“Cute place,” Tahirah said, looking around the small apartment.

“Gee, thanks,” Zero replied, assuming her friend was being sarcastic.

“No, I mean it!” Tahirah insisted, placing her sewing machine on the circular table in the center of the room. “It’s cozy.”

The central living space was cramped but clean, with blankets tacked over the two windows in lieu of drapes and another serving as a doorway curtain. They were threadbare and clearly old, but in spite of the age, they were still multicolored vivid masterpieces that brightened up the grey room tremendously.

“That’s where my roommate sleeps,”  Zero, nodding at the blanket-covered arch. “And that’s where I sleep,” she finished, pointing to the sleeping mat that was rolled up in a corner next to an electric stove. “It’s a one bedroom apartment. I’m really lucky that Dan lets me crash here for free, I don’t know what I’d do without her. Kitchen is… here.” She gestured around them. The room they were standing in was a mishmash of kitchen and living space, with the stove and fridge a stone’s throw away from the loveseat and personal vid screen, the only apparent source of entertainment in the apartment. “Bathrooms are down there. We have kind of a bathroom within a bathroom situation. It can’t remain sterile with us both using it, so I have my own portable… stall, I guess. And that’s the tour.”  

Zero was clearly fading fast, so Tahirah jumped in to save her. “As much as I appreciate the tour, you have _got_ to get some sleep now, baby. Oh, but… you don’t have your own bedroom. And your roommate, I’m going to wake her with my sewing machine...” She bit her lower lip. She should have considered Zero’s living space and offered up her own, much more spacious apartment instead.

Zero shook her head. “No, she’s sleeping over her girlfriend’s place tonight.”

Tahirah exhaled in relief. “Well, good! Go sleep in her room then, so the light doesn’t bother you-- you can turn the sound off in there, can’t you?” she asked, pointing to the helmet.

Zero nodded. “Let me just… show you what needs to be done.” For a few frazzled minutes, she explained patterns and fabric choices and pulled out pictures of the outfits that were trashed due to their color. Once she got a good enough idea of what she needed to do, Tahirah waved her off to her roommate’s bedroom, sleeping mat in tow.

She set up her sewing station at the dining table and spread the first piece of fabric out on the floor, since there was no surface large enough to accommodate the yards of hand constructed, layered silk chiffon with diamanté appliqués. She couldn’t believe that she was actually touching this material -- with the amount of credits per yard that it cost, you could buy a small skycar.

She slipped a sheet of dressmaker’s carbon paper underneath the pattern pieces and used her tracing wheel to transfer all the cutting lines onto the carbon. She wasn’t about to cut the pattern pieces that Zero had spent so much time making, and the traced copy would preserve the integrity of the original pattern.

Once her prep work was completed, she picked up a pair of fabric scissors and settled in to work. Opening and shutting the scissors a few times to test their fluidity, she bent over the silk and began to snip.

\---

Tahirah woke up with a strip of lace stuck to the side of her face. Momentarily panicked, she checked the time and was relieved to find that she hadn’t been passed out for too long. She had been refueling on Thresher energy drinks for most of the night, but her blood sugar finally crashed and the lack of sleep caught up to her.

She peeled the lace off her face and took a look at what she’d done. She thought it might be enough -- one garment was ready to wear, excluding alterations to fit the model, another was done aside from the partially finished sequined bodice, and three more were in various stages of the process of being made.

It was a start, anyways.

She didn’t know what time Zero was expected back at T’Lani, so she figured it was time to wake her. She briefly admired the curtain’s curvilinear design, brushing her fingers over the central medallion and tribal symbols before pushing it aside. She peered around as she crept into the room, taking in all the various artifacts that marked her roommate’s territory: the ancient volus abacus on her nightstand, the copy of the Book of Plenix, the safe that presumably held the credits she had started hoarding in an attempt to amass her own personal fortune.

Zero was curled up on the floor, her sleeping mat next to the volus-sized mattress that she was too big to fit in. Tahirah crouched down and gently shook her awake.

“Zero?”

Zero bolted upright in a flurry of panic, whacking Tahirah in the head and swearing as she frantically looked around the room.

Tahirah clutched her nose before pulling her fingers away to make sure that it wasn’t bleeding, just smarting. “Relax, it’s just me.”

“Oh. Sorry, Tahirah, I freaked. Am I late? What time is it? I have to be in at noon, I...” Zero struggled to her feet, and Tahirah hated seeing her so scared and panicked about work. It only strengthened her resolve to make sure that this plan to fake her death succeeded.

“Don’t worry, it’s only 11:00. I just wanted to make sure you were okay and show you what I’ve gotten done. I’m sorry, I kind of fell asleep for like fifteen minutes myself...” She grimaced.

Zero shook her head fervently. “No, don’t apologize! I’m so grateful--” she cut herself off when she stepped through the curtain and saw the work that Tahirah had accomplished in one night. “I’m _so grateful_ ,” she finished, “that you did this for me. On no sleep yourself. Keelah, Tahirah, this is more than I could have done even if I was awake and firing on all cylinders.” She hugged Tahirah tightly. “You’re my best friend.”

Tahirah grinned into her hood. “And you’re mine,” she answered, stepping back. “I’m sorry you still have so much left to do, though… if you have some coffee or more energy drinks, I can try to get some more of those sequins done.”

Zero clapped her hands on her shoulders. “No. Fuck that, you’ve done more than enough. We’re gonna go get breakfast, my treat. I can keep working on it, but this is enough for T’Lani to proof and… prove,” she laughed a little at her choice of words, “that I was up all night ‘doing work’ and not sleeping. Which is not true, that was all you, but she doesn’t need to know that.”  She linked arms with Tahirah, leading her towards the door. “Come on, there’s a crepe place on the corner with dextro and levo coffee...”

\---

“Is that everything?” Tahirah asked an hour later when their cab (which, thankfully, was not driven by a cranky elcor, but a very polite salarian) dropped Zero off outside the T’Lani headquarters.

“I think so,” Zero said, doing a quick mental inventory of all the belongings that were on the sidewalk and ready for the luggage trolley. They had been meticulous in packing everything up, making sure that there was no evidence of Tahirah’s supplies to give her involvement away. “Thank you _so_ much -- now go home and get some sleep!”

Tahirah saluted her from the backseat of the taxi. “Aye, aye, ma’am. Good luck with the Wicked Witch!” She waved goodbye out the rear window of the skycar and, the second she got back to her apartment, passed out on her couch. She was too tired to make it to her bed, and too tired to hear the sound of her datapad buzzing in her purse.

**Lillen: Hey, are you still coming to lunch today? o???o**

She was still dead to the world a few hours later, when it vibrated again.

**Lillen: I figured maybe you didn’t show up because you were so busy with work, but I just stopped by your office and you weren’t there either. Are you sick? OmmO**

She roused herself around 5:00 to get a drink of water and shuffle to her bed, leaving her purse and its datapad forgotten by the couch.

**Lillen: I hope you’re okay, and I hope I don’t come off as clingy or anything. It’s just not like you to be so quiet for so long!**

At around 7:00, Tahirah woke to the sound of her apartment’s buzzer. She was disoriented, having been in the middle of a dream that she was still in school and was late for an exam. In the dream, she was unable to turn off her alarm clock, and it took her a few moments after waking up to realize that she was actually hearing the sound in reality.

Still groggy with sleep, she stumbled to the vid screen that displayed who was outside, and the sight of Lillen at her doorstep shocked her into alertness.

“Lil!” she cried, flinging the door open once Lillen was let up to her apartment. “What are you doing h-- oh no,” she said, crestfallen at the realization. “I forgot about our lunch.”

“Nervously apologetic: Sorry, did I wake you? I wasn’t sure if it was okay to just stop by, but I was worried after not hearing from you all day.”

Tahirah positively glowed with pleasure at that. “You were worried about me? Lil, that’s so sweet. I'm sorry I freaked you out, I completely forgot what time it was. I desperately needed sleep after staying up all night helping Zero.”

“Confused: What happened with Zero?”

“Here, come on in, I’ll catch you up.” Tahirah stood aside to usher Lillen into her place. It was exciting; this was the first time Lillen had set foot into her apartment, which was such an intimate place to visit.

“Politely: You have a lovely home.”

Tahirah grinned. “No need to be all formal, but thank you!” She settled onto the couch, while Lillen sat down on the floor next to the armrest (the couch would buckle under her weight -- Tahirah made a mental note to look into elcor-friendly furniture). “I got a call from Zero at like 2 A.M. last night, and she was just freaking out. She was still at work and needed to pull an all-nighter redoing basically an entire collection. It was awful seeing her like that… the poor girl was running on fumes, so I helped her sneak out all the supplies and we went back to her apartment so she could get some sleep while I spent the night sewing for her. And that’s why I skipped work today,” she finished. “I needed to catch up on my beauty sleep.”

“In disbelief: You did that for Zero?”

“Yeah! Why does everyone keep acting like that’s so extraordinary?” Tahirah was legitimately surprised at this response, so similar to Zero’s emotional “you’re a true best friend” reaction.

“Emphatically: Because that is an extraordinary thing to do. With great sentiment: You are extraordinary.”

Tahirah couldn’t hold back the giddy, schoolgirlish smile that spread across her face, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. “Well,” she said, words failing her. “I don’t think I am all that extraordinary. It’s what any good friend would do. But thank you, Lil, that means the world to me.” _More than you could possibly know_.

“Speaking of friends and all… do you... want to stay and watch a vid or something?” she asked, uncharacteristically shy about suggesting it. There was a fine line between watching a movie as buddies and watching a movie as a date, and she didn’t want to cross that threshold.

“Sincerely: I’d love to. Here...” Lillen reached up behind her and pulled a satchel off of her back. “Embarrassed: I thought maybe you missed work because you were sick, so I brought a remedy.” She took out a clear container of soup. “As explanation: Elcor usually eat herbs when we’re feeling under the weather, but the woman at the convenience store recommended a warm bowl of soup for sick asari and humans. Hesitantly: I’m not sure if it’s food that you can eat if you’re not actually sick, but I thought I’d offer it anyway.”

Touched, Tahirah accepted the container and glanced at its label, “chicken noodle soup” emblazoned in bright red text. I absolutely can eat it even though I’m not sick. My mom used to make this for me and Cassie when we were kids… I went through a phase where the only thing I wanted to eat was soup. Thank you, Lil, you’re an absolute doll.”

“Pleased: I’m glad you like it,”

Tahirah stood up, actively fighting to resist the urge to kiss Lillen’s cheek. Instead, she sidled into the kitchen and came back with a spoon. “I wish I had something for you to eat… I have some lettuce, maybe I could make you a salad?”

“Genuinely: Don’t worry about it; I ate before I came here. Quizzically: What movie would you like to watch?”

Tahirah sat down on the couch and popped the lid off of the tub of soup. “Would you mind watching one of my favorites? Because I _love_ this one vid, _Off Stage_. Have you ever seen it?”

“Pondering: I don’t think so. What’s it about?”

“A paraplegic asari who learns to dance using biotics. I danced when I was younger -- and I’m not talking about on the stage of Afterlife. Asari ballet was my favorite extracurricular in school. I used to drive my parents nuts, I watched _Off Stage_ so many times.”

“Warmly: Then I would love to watch your favorite vid.”

Tahirah activated her personal vid screen and pulled up _Off Stage_. She snuggled into the couch as the title screen began playing. The bowl of soup in her lap radiated heat, and it just made her wish it was Lillen’s warm hand she was holding instead.

No matter how many times she saw it, she always cried when the lead discovered that she could use biotics to dance for the very first time. When she watched _Off Stage_ alone or at home, she was unabashed in her crying, causing Shepard and Cassie to, without fail, roll their eyes and tease her. Now that she had company, she did her best to be silent, tears leaking out the sides of her eyes and rolling down her cheeks.

Despite Tahirah’s best attempts to go unnoticed, Lillen caught sight of the tears. “Concerned: Are you crying?”

The jig was up, so Tahirah scrubbed at her face with the sleeves of her shirt. “Yes!” she wailed. “I’m sorry, this is ridiculous. I’ve seen this hundreds of times and I always cry at this part. It’s just so inspiring, especially after her mother told her she would never be able to do this...” She was blubbery even just recalling the emotional scene, and she was pretty sure Lillen found the whole situation highly entertaining.

“Amused agreement: It is very inspiring, yes.”

“You’re laughing at me,” Tahirah said, giggling through her tears.

“Incredibly insulted: No, I would never do such a thing. How dare you imply otherwise.”

“You are, you’re teasing me!”

“Reluctant acknowledgment: Okay, maybe I am.”

Tahirah laughed, the waterworks having dried up. She wished she was sitting on the floor with Lillen, because she wanted nothing more than to worm her way under her arm and snuggle close. Instead, she knelt and leaned over the edge of the couch to throw her arms around Lillen, grateful that the added height of the couch and the fact that Lillen was sitting made such a thing possible.

Lillen raised a hand and placed it on her back, and Tahirah sighed, its weight making her feel secure. In the background, the music that was playing over the montage of the asari’s struggle to learn how to dance reached its crescendo. She traced the leopard-like spots that covered the elcor’s hide, wondering if she should voice the emotions she was feeling.

She never got the opportunity to, since as soon as she opened her mouth, Lillen pulled her hand away. “With great interest: What is her mother going to say when she finds out?”

“Who?” Tahirah had forgotten about the vid entirely, but she took the cue to sit back up straight, as reluctant as she was to relinquish her hold. “Oh, right,” she said, turning back to the screen. “That’s what’s so interesting -- she doesn’t. At least not yet, just you wait...”

She was disappointed that the moment hadn’t led to something more, but she tried not to let it bother her. She was content to just sit here, belly warm with good food and affection for her companion, and enjoy her favorite movie in the company of her favorite person.


	10. Chapter 10

Once she had recovered from her all-nighter, Tahirah began working on Zero’s suit in earnest. She’d picked up the old one at her apartment, and now it was a matter of figuring out how to modify it so that it fit while maintaining its lifesaving functions. The lower part of the leg was the easiest problem to solve; it simply involved purchasing a new set of hermetically sealed, hard-shelled boots designed to protect everything between a quarian’s toes and the joints of their knees. Pricy, but simple.

Past the knee where things got more complicated. Zero had grown since she’d last worn this suit, and based on the measurements of her sloper, she wouldn’t be able to get the lower half of the suit over her hips. Studying the interior technology of the enviro suit, she deduced that the best way to avoid compromising critical functions was to take it apart at the seams and sew in side panels.

The fabric of an enviro suit was tough – she broke six machine needles before she finished the legs alone. She was not used to working with such heavy duty materials as urethane-coated ballistic nylon and ortho-fabric, but she was never one to back down from a challenge. Hours of backbreaking seam ripping and fighting with needles later, it felt like she didn’t have much to show for all the effort she put into it. But it was a start, and she had a newfound respect for the people (or synthetics, more likely) who made enviro suits.

After reworking and modifying the material to fit Zero’s adult proportions and replacing some of the internal tubing, Tahirah moved on to patching it using the techniques Zero had demonstrated. All quarians learned basic sewing skills for on-the-fly repairs. In a species where a suit rupture could be deadly, they needed a deft hand with a needle. Coming from a fashion background, Tahirah was inspired by their practical approach to sewing. After fixing the wear and tear, she used the same methods to cover sections of the suit with a thick leather that added another layer of protection to the suit. Up to this point, all the sewing she had done had been purely for functional purposes, but here she was able to let her designer side shine. She took inspiration from ancient quarian stone tablets when panelling the suit, all straight lines and geometric shapes.

From a design perspective, that was fun, but hand sewing the enviro suit directly was taxing. What she was looking forward to was the exterior design, the cloth that made quarian suits unique. She knew exactly what fabric to use. She’d held onto it for the last ten years, waiting for just the right project, and she dug around in one of her many fabric storage lockers for it. It was too beautiful to waste on anything but this suit: a silken galaxy, pale blue whorls and bursts of light dotting the star-studded, deep purple fabric.

“Oh, Tahirah…” Zero had breathed when she stopped by one day, voice wavering with emotion. “It’s perfect.”

“I know. I never used it because nothing I thought of was good enough for it, but this… this is what it was made for,” she had replied, and at that point, she wanted to abandon what she was currently working on and move straight on to the fun stuff. But for once in her life, she displayed a modicum of impulse control and got through her task of adding heavy-duty exterior pockets to the enviro suit.

Finally -- _finally_ \-- she was able to work on the pieces that excited her most about the prospect of suit designing. She had a vision for the hood that covered the pipes at the back of a traditionally feminine quarian suit. Zero had once described herself as a lady who loved ladies, and Tahirah knew that she wouldn’t be comfortable with the back of her helmet exposed. So she opted for a hood that took the form of a cropped hoodie, with cap sleeves barely covering her shoulders. The garment was secured at the collarbone with a weighty brooch, a unique piece that Tahirah had picked up at an antique shop back on her home planet.

It was a complicated garment that resulted in lots of fiddling with seam allowance, notching curves and snipping seams to get it to lie just right, but it was worth it. Tahirah wrapped more of the silky fabric around her dress form’s waist, considering. She had patterned a sash for around her waist, with two long loops at either side of her hips, but she was questioning that design choice now. Aesthetically, it was very attractive (she loved the way this fabric draped so effortlessly), but she was trying to think like a quarian and consider the practicality of the outfit. She had horrific visions of the dangling loops getting caught on something, and she scrapped the idea entirely. Instead, she opted for a closer fitting belt, something with a more dramatic angle, a sharp crescent moon of a swoop on one side and a flat pocket that rested against the other upper thigh.

She was partway through working on the internal construction of the pocket (there was no way that the lightweight fabric could support much; she needed something sturdy that would hold its shape and allow heavier materials to be stored) when she was interrupted by a knock on her studio’s door.

She checked the clock, wondering if she had gotten so caught up in her work that she had lost track of time. But no, it was early afternoon, and as far as she knew, Zero was still stuck at work and Lillen was washing windows. Confused, she opened the door.

“Surprise,” Shepard said with a grin.

To say that she was surprised was an understatement. “Daddy!” she exclaimed, and she very nearly threw herself in her father's arms before she remembered that she was supposed to be angry.

Instead, she folded her arms across her chest, hugging them tight to prevent them from betraying her. “What are you doing here?”

“Can't a dad just drop by to visit her favorite daughter? Don't tell Cassie that you're my favorite daughter.”

Tahirah just looked at her.

“Okay, that's not true, you're both my favorite daughters.”

Her expression didn't change.

“Fine, you've been ignoring all of my calls and I wanted to apologize, so I really had no choice but to come here and do it in person,” Shepard admitted. “Can I come in?”

“I guess.” Tahirah stepped aside to let her into the studio, sliding the door shut behind her.

“Look,” Shepard said. “I’m sorry about that conversation.”

“It was really offensive, Dad.”

“I know, and I’m not excusing it. It’s just that sometimes I’m insensitive, you know that. And sometimes it’s entirely on purpose, but I promise that that was an accident. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.”

Shepard nodded. “Yeah. And that’s the last thing I want to do, so let me take you and your… girlfriend? Out to dinner?” She raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

Tahirah shook her head. “Not my girlfriend yet, but I’m working on it. Goddess, Daddy, you’re really putting me on the spot here.”

“Come on, I promise I’ll be on my best behavior. What do you say?” She held out her arms, and Tahirah sighed. Her father had a hard time staying mad at her when she played the sympathy card, and it looked like she had the same issue. She didn’t like being angry with her dad, and really, for as socially inept and rude as she could be sometimes, Shepard had a certain charm about her.

“Okay, I forgive you,” she said, accepting the hug as a peace offering. “And I’d love to go out to dinner with you. But we're not bringing Lil.”

Shepard pulled back to give her an incredulous look. “What? _Why?_ I'm not going to say anything! I have _some_ idea about how to function in society.”

“I know, and it's not you! I just… I don't want to scare her away.”

“Why would this scare her away?” Shepard gestured to her scowling face.

“Daddddd,” Tahirah said, the word coming out more whiny than she intended. “First of all, that face you're making is really intimidating. Second of all, that's not what would scare her away. I just mean that meeting the parents is kind of a big deal. We haven’t been on a date yet because she wants to take things slow and think about whether she wants to try a relationship or not. You introduce your dates to your parents after you’re already in a relationship with them and know that it’s serious.”

Shepard stared blankly at her. Tahirah knew that she had no experience whatsoever with this, having never had parents herself. She met Liara’s father, once without knowing she was Liara’s father, and again when they were in a well established relationship, so there was no formal “meet the parents” stage.

So Tahirah guessed she couldn’t really blame her for not knowing how this worked.

“Trust me on this,” she said. “I like that you want to meet her, but just… not now, okay?”

Tahirah could tell Shepard was bristling a little, slighted at what felt like a rejection of her parentage. To her credit, she didn’t argue further, just held up her hands and said, “Fine, you know this situation better than me. So,” she said, raising her voice and clapping her hands together. “Tell me about what you’re working on.” She nodded at the quarian dress form, the exterior garment still a work in progress. “I didn’t know you were branching out to other species. I thought you were trying to get back into the fancy shit business -- are you doing street stuff too?”

Tahirah sighed, taking a step back to survey her work as a whole. “No, I’m still doing high fashion, I’m just taking a break from it to work on a special project for a friend.”

“Go on,” Shepard said, pulling up a plastic chair that Tahirah had set up for Zero when she visited. She turned it around, straddling the chair backwards so she could rest her arms along the back of it.

“It’s kind of a long story.”

“I have time.”

“So you remember me telling you about the friend I made after that disastrous rejection?”

“Your drinking buddy? Yeah. You said she was an indentured servant and you wouldn’t let me do anything about it.”

“I know, and that’s so sweet of you to offer to help, Daddy, but Zero doesn’t want to get the authorities involved. But it’s okay, we have a plan.”

Shepard was very interested in plans that involved getting people out of horrible situations. “Spill.”

“It sounds so ridiculous to say out loud, but… we’re going to try to fake her death. This is going to be her replacement suit. We stage a suicide and leave the old suit behind, and no one’s the wiser.”

Shepard let out a low, impressed whistle, and Tahirah was intensely grateful that she had a father who would find such an admission admirable. “Sounds like fun. How the hell are you going to pull this off?”

“Well,” Tahirah began, sitting down in her swivel chair. “Drowning. In the river.”

Shepard nodded thoughtfully, as if this was a perfectly normal thing to say. “So no one will get too suspicious if a body doesn't show up. How do you stage that?”

That was where the plan got a little murkier. “We haven't totally ironed out all the kinks yet,” she admitted. “But we're going to make it look like she jumped off a bridge. If the fall didn't kill her, the water would. There's a pretty quiet bridge near here that doesn't get a lot of traffic, it just connects this strip of offices to a park, and most people who work here are working professionals without kids, so…” She shrugged.

“Surveillance?”

“Cameras.” That was pretty much all Tahirah could say on the matter. “I wish I could say more than that -- I actually was able to charm my way into Nos Astra’s camera slash electricity hub, but I couldn't find the ones I was looking for. Yeah, I sort of know a police officer,” she said at Shepard’s quizzical expression. “She helped me after my studio got wrecked.”

“What?” Shepard said, brow furrowed, and Tahirah realized that in her silent treatment, she'd never told her that someone was continuing to attempt to ruin her name. “Is this the little bitch who sabotaged your show? When did this happen? Who's the officer?”

“I'll tell you over dinner,” she assured her. “Sorry, I know I haven't really kept you abreast of everything that's been going on. But Lil and I looked at the bridge the other day, and we’re like… 98% certain that there’s two cameras, one on either end of the bridge. Except we don’t know where any of the blind spots are, so we were thinking that Lil would take out the cameras and maybe the lights too, since she’s great at technological stuff. I think I can squeeze myself into Zero’s suit, since her hands and feet are a lot bigger than mine are. Throw a tactical cloak over me, get out of the suit, leave it at the end of the bridge, and get the hell out of there. And Lil will call and report a jumper. It’s better than just dumping the suit, and if I pass anyone on my way there, they can confirm that someone who definitely looks like a quarian went to the bridge.”  She shrugged. “It’s kind of weak, but none of us really know what we’re doing, and it’s worth a shot.”

Shepard considered this for a brief second. “Okay, no,” she decided. “You need to go big or go home. If the cameras mysteriously go down on this bridge alone, that’s suspicious. Especially if something dramatic immediately happens afterwards. The authorities will definitely suspect that your not-girlfriend had something to do with it. But if you knock out the entire city, and there’s mass pandemonium for even thirty seconds, though...”

“Daddy,” Tahirah said, giving her a long-suffering look. “We can’t knock out the entire city’s power and cameras. Be realistic here.”

Shepard raised her eyebrows. “Don’t tell me what is and isn’t realistic. Do you know the things I’ve done? Going through the Omega 4 Relay and surviving isn’t realistic, and I sure as hell managed that.”

Tahirah was very used to this kind of reaction. “Okay, but maybe we can scale back the scope just a little.”

Shepard hummed, a neutral sound that wasn’t quite assent or dissent. “Alright, fine, maybe that’s more practical. You have your head screwed on straight.”

“Yeah, I definitely got that from Mom,” she said with a grin, completely failing to mention that that sensibility was fleeting and she was very prone to her own impulsive irrationality, especially whilst drunk. She really was her father’s daughter sometimes.

“I can’t even contest that. Come on, let’s go get something to eat.” Shepard stood up, and Tahirah followed suit. “Know any good places in the area?”

“Actually, yeah… you’ll like this place, they have a killer bar.”

“Good. I am going to drink so much.”

“You and me both, Daddy.”

\---

Dinner was a success, if you were measuring by how drunk they both were by the end of the night.

“We can _totally_ pull this off,” Tahirah said as they left the bar. Her face was flushed with excitement. She knew it was likely the alcohol that was made her feel so confident, but it was _good_ knowing that her father not only approved of their heist but also wanted to be involved in it. Shepard had succeeded at crazier things before; she was reasonably sure they could fake one quarian’s death.

“Hell yeah we can,” Shepard replied. After a lifetime of practice, she held her liquor better than Tahirah did, but there was still a definite slur to her voice. They took a taxi home, with Tahirah resting her head on her father’s shoulder. When they got back to her apartment, Shepard crashed on the couch and Tahirah crawled into bed.

She pulled out her datapad, opening up a new message to both Zero and Lil.

**Tahirah: WARNIGN: I AM PRETTY DRUNKW RIGHT NOWE aslo my dad is here. Andn shes helping su out with this pkan. Paln. Plan. GIve me mmmmmmmmmmmmm one more day???? Maybe two I DONT KNOW well see to finish the suit and then. Group meeting onm onday?**

Tahirah snuggled into bed, her pillow scrunched under her head so that she could still eye her datapad screen in case her partners in crime responded in a timely manner (that is, before the alcohol made her conk out), which they did.

**Zero: You went drinking without me?? Tahirah, I’m so offended. Oh wait, never mind, I’m stuck at T’Lani killing myself for fashion week. Maybe I can go out drinking when I’m dead. I am so ready to hear more about this plan. See you Monday and THANK YOU again!!**

**Lillen: I’m glad you’re drunk and happy right now! OwwO And I look forward to hearing more about this plan. Go get some sleep and see you (and your dad? o???o) on Monday!**

Tahirah smacked her lips, mouth dry and makeup still on (which she would regret come morning), but she was too sleepy to get up and get a glass of water. She thought about responding to the messages, but she couldn’t get her fingers to uncurl from where she was clutching the sheets to her chest. Instead, she let sleep wash over her, and her last thought before drifting into unconsciousness was: Oh. She would be introducing Lillen to her parent after all.


	11. Chapter 11

“How’re you feeling?” Shepard asked Tahirah.

“Good! Pumped, feeling like we can actually do this.” Their meeting the night before had gone well, and it was hard to believe that they were actually about to carry this out.

“Confidently: We can do this.”

It was also hard to believe that her father and potentially future girlfriend were in the same room together. To her credit, Shepard _had_ behaved herself, and Lillen had been exceedingly polite. Still, it felt awkward, an undercurrent of tension cutting through the air, and Tahirah had no idea whether Lillen was trying to impress Shepard, or what that meant about their relationship. For all she knew, Lillen just felt awkward about the “here’s my father, you need to seek her approval” vibe.

But she couldn’t think about her interpersonal relationship woes right now. Her omni-tool buzzed, projecting a holographic picture of Zero’s suicide note. “Note posted. Almost home,”  the accompanying message read.

“It’s a go,” she said. “Dad, you want to go call a taxi, and we’ll meet you outside?”

“Yup, just a moment.” Shepard hustled out of the apartment, leaving Tahirah to finish zipping up the duffel bag that contained Zero’s finished suit and replacement helmet and boots.

She slung the bag over her shoulder, and Tahirah and Lillen headed towards the apartment building’s elevator.

Tahirah _wanted_ to apologize for any awkwardness between Lillen and Shepard. She _wanted_ to tell Lillen she loved her, at least once, in case something went horribly wrong when they carried out this madcap plan, just in case they ended up in hot water. What she _said_ was: “So how are _you_ feeling about everything that we’re doing tonight?” The doors slid shut behind them, and she cursed her sudden lack of spine.

“Contemplatively: Good. With mixed excitement and nervousness: Here’s hoping everything goes smoothly.”

“Don’t be nervous!” Tahirah said, touching Lillen’s arm reassuringly. “Like I said, we are totally going to pull this off. And honestly, you and me? We have the easier side of things. We can’t even do anything unless my dad and Zero pull off this stunt.”

“Reassured: You’re right. Let’s do this.”

It was a quiet ride to Zero’s apartment, the air electric with excitement but no one willing to say anything with the cab driver present.

“Got the goods?” Zero asked when she opened her apartment door to let them in. Tahirah had to snicker at the comparison of a remastered quarian suit to contraband drug. Not that there was much that was illegal on Illium, a world noted for its lax policy on controlled substances -- just about every drug could be bought or sold, as long as it was labeled correctly.

“Yes ma’am,” she said, passing the duffel bag, and Zero set it down on the kitchen table where Tahirah had spent that one long, long night sewing her fingers off.

“First things first,” Zero said. “Get this fucking thing off me. I’m not going to be able to get my boots off otherwise.”

“Without even the slightest trace of cockiness: I can do that. I’ve been practicing.”

“Practicing?” Zero asked, sitting down and swinging her foot up onto the table so Lillen could better access it.

“Craftily: In my line of work, you get access to a surprising amount of technology.”

“I love it when you’re devious,” Tahirah said, a teasing edge to her voice that made Shepard catch her eye and raise her eyebrows, as if to say, _Really?_ She guessed that sometimes she did lay the flirtatious voice on a bit thick.

Tahirah had expected the process of freezing Zero from her bonds to take longer, but the monitor popped off within a few minutes of Lillen working at it.

“Not bad,” Shepard commented.

“Pleased: Thank you.” It was high praise indeed, coming from someone as technically-minded as Commander Shepard, and Lillen knew it.

“Keelah, that feels good,” Zero practically moaned. “I feel kind of naked without that weight on my ankle, but _wow_ am I glad it’s gone. Thank you, Lillen, you’re a lifesaver.” She threw her arms around Lillen (at least, as much as she could – that was the one downside of being friends with an elcor, they were too large to encircle your arms around them, which was why Tahirah had taken to hugging Lillen’s bicep whenever she wanted to express affection). “You’re all lifesavers.”’

“Don’t thank us just yet,” Shepard said. “We still need to pull this off.”

“You’re right.” Zero exhaled and picked up the duffel bag. “Time to get changed. Your stuff is on the couch, um… Ms. Shepard.”

“I said you don’t have to call me that,” Shepard reminded her. “Shepard’s fine. Or Commander, even though that’s technically not my title anymore. But yeah, thanks. Time for everyone to get changed.” She picked up her own duffel bag, which she had prepared and dropped off the day before, off of the couch.

Shepard pulled out a suit of lightweight armor, a very standard model that was lightyears away from the bright green, bulky armor that had become her trademark over the years. She got suited up as Zero disappeared into the sterile bathroom stall to get changed. It took some time, but when she stepped out into the living room, Tahirah was nearly brought to tears.

“You look,” she pronounced, “so good.” And she did, she wasn’t just saying that because Zero was wearing something she designed. The suit looked brand new, showing no sign of wear and tear and hugging her in all the right places (thank goddess for that sloper and constant measurement checking). The sash was perfect, and she had incorporated the galactic fabric into the pockets, with a peek of blue and purple in the pocket’s pleats and interior. Zero looked like a whole new quarian, and when she spoke, she _sounded_ like a whole new one as well.

“I _feel_ so good!”  She laughed, sounding happier than Tahirah had ever heard her. She had shed the skin that was associated with everything terrible in her life, and she would be dumping every terrible memory of her enslavement at the bridge.

Or rather, Tahirah would be doing that. Zero had her own role to play in accompanying Shepard.

“Admiring: You look beautiful.”

“Looking good, yeah. I can’t even tell you’re the same person,” Shepard added. “Which I guess is the sign of a job well done, Tahirah.”

“ _Thank_ you,” Tahirah said, beaming with pride.

“All yours,” Zero said, handing her the old suit. “I already disinfected it, don’t worry. I hope you’re able to fit in it okay, our biology is so different…”

“Well, I guess we’ll find out now, won’t we?” It was Tahirah’s turn to change her outfit. Since she was wearing skintight leggings and a long-sleeved shirt shirt beneath her clothes, she stripped off her dress, a nice little number with a lattice illusion neckline detail that was repeated at the waist and the hemline. The shirt’s plunging neckline might have been a little too risqué for polite company, but it was necessary, since she didn’t want her undershirt’s neckline to show underneath the dress’s illusion décolletage. Besides, she was among family and friends, so she didn’t particularly care.

Much to her relief, she was able to squeeze her feet into Zero’s boots, before the sole spit into the two toes characteristic of the quarian race. The gloves required some finger manipulation that wasn’t extremely comfortable, but she was willing to suffer for her best friend, and the rest of her proportions were similar enough to Zero’s that she fit into it without looking too ridiculous.

“How do I look?” she asked once she was secure in the bodysuit, mask in her hands.

“Eh, good enough,” Shepard said, and Tahirah stuck her tongue out at her.

“Well, you’re no me, but I guess you’re passable,” Zero said, and Tahirah laughed, protesting with a “Hey!”

“Actually genuine: You look beautiful as always, don’t listen to the haters.”

“Well, I’m glad at least _one_ of you is on my side,” Tahirah said, using flippancy to disguise the fluttering in her stomach. “Okay, we’re all suited up, except for Lil, since she gets to play herself. Which is a wonderful role, if I may. Does everyone know what they’re supposed to do? ”

Her three companions nodded.

“Then I guess you two better get going,” Tahirah finished, nodding at Shepard and Zero.

“Yeah, let’s get this show on the road.” Shepard reached into her duffel bag and pulled out a combat helmet and a swath of black cloth. She fitted the helmet over her head, obscuring all of her features from view and making her look like every nameless mercenary she had ever fought, and tossed the fabric to Zero. “It’s called a burqa. If anyone says anything, chew them out for shitting on your freedom of religion.”

“You got it.” Zero robed herself, and Tahirah surveyed the both of them. You couldn’t find a more suspicious looking pair. “I have to say, I’m a little nervous...”

“No, don’t be nervous!” Tahirah said. “We got this under control, don’t we?”

“Yeah, I know, but you know -- ‘the best way to survive trouble is to avoid it whenever possible.’ That’s what every quarian is taught before leaving the Fleet. I might not be a great quarian, but I guess that’s still kind of ingrained in me a little.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Shepard told Zero, voice sounding deeper coming from inside the helmet. She hoisted her empty duffel bag over her shoulder. “You’re with me; I’ll keep you safe. Now come on, let’s go steal a car.”

“Rent!” Tahirah reminded her.

“Let’s go _rent_ a car.”

\---

It wasn’t difficult, getting a skycar in Illium. There was an app you could download onto your omni-tool to avoid interacting with anyone at all, but Shepard didn't want to risk anything getting traced back to her personal omni-tool. Instead, she met with the rental skycar dealer at the transportation hub, signed up under an assumed identity, gave him some (false) contact information, and he handed her the keys to a car. Boom, just like that.

She _did_ have to deal with some strange looks, though, as he tried to decide whether he could trust someone who didn't show their face.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” she demanded. “That’s real rude of you. What, you want me to show my face, in all its raw meat glory? Just because I’m horrifically disfigured doesn’t mean you can judge me.”

“Oh, no, no,” the salarian dealer backpedalled. “That’s not what I--”

“Yeah, you’re all suspicious of me because I’m a human wearing a mask. What, do you judge quarians and volus too? You’re either prejudiced against humans or a racist in general. I bet you’re one of those salarian supremacists.”

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to offend -- please, enjoy this ride on me,” he said, clearly flustered as he handed over the keys.

“Well, you did hurt my feelings. But I guess that makes up for it.” Shepard took the keys and headed for the rented X3M skycar.

“Wow,” Zero said once they were inside, Zero in the driver’s seat and Shepard riding shotgun.

“You can intimidate anyone if you try hard enough,” Shepard informed her.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Zero turned on the shuttle and lifted it into the air, fingers expertly navigating the haptic adaptive interface. She was very glad for the burqa; they would be purposefully entering a no fly zone, and at least if anyone saw her at the helm, she would just look like an amorphous black blob.

In the passenger side of the skycar, Shepard darkened the windows to give them some more privacy and pulled out her gun. It was a small heavy pistol, a far cry from her favored weapon, an M-96 Mattock assault rifle modded with ultralight alloys and tricked out with an omni-blade attachment. But she guessed it didn’t matter, as long as it got the job done.

Zero eyed the gun warily. “You’re not going to… kill anyone, are you?” she asked, suddenly reminded of the number of people Commander Shepard had killed in her line of work (mostly enemies, sure, but that was subjective -- even mercenaries had families, and it wasn’t like Shepard’s actions had never resulted in civilians being killed, even if it was for the greater good).

“What? No,” Shepard replied, and Zero chose to believe her, even though she wasn’t entirely reassured. “I might need to shoot some _things_ , but no, no one’s going to die tonight. Except for fictional you, that is.”

Shepard activated her helmet’s visor, which served as an extension of her omni-tool, and called Tahirah.

Several miles and levels away, Tahirah’s omni-tool flashed to life.

“Is everything okay, Daddy?” she asked, manipulating her omni-tool to conference Lillen in. They were both in position, Lillen maintaining the fiction of resting on a bench on the bridge after her regular nightly walk and Tahirah sitting on the playscape of the park, which was blessedly empty, given the hour. The earbuds that rested in the flaps at the far end of Lillen’s mouth appeared to be connected to her portable music device, but in actuality they gave her an audio connection to the call.

“Yeah, got the shuttle, we’re on our way up now. I’ll let you know when I'm inside, you should head to the bridge then. Remember, you'll know when the power goes out, obviously, but tell your girlfriend to make sure the cameras are deactivated before you do anything.”

“Dad!” Tahirah cried out before she could remember to be stealthy. “She's _not_ my girlfriend, and I just patched her in.”

“Oh.” Shepard scratched her head. “Hey, Lillen.”

“Awkwardly: Hi.”

A pregnant pause stretched between them. Beneath her new blue mask, Zero widened her eyes, lips pursed in a silent _that did not just happen_ expression.

She tactfully kept any comments to herself and pulled out of traffic, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one was taking any notice. It was late, most bars were closed and even the hardest of partiers were passed out, with the exception of the salarians, who were beginning to crawl out of the woodwork. The species needed a mere hour of sleep, but the businesses that catered to this clientele were few and far between in Nos Astra, which catered to the asari that colonized the world and other similarly diurnal species.

Needless to say, there wasn't a spectacular amount of shuttles in the sky. Asides from the taxis that circled the city, looking for stragglers on the streets who needed transportation, most skycars were just focused on getting home so their occupants could get some sleep. None of the other vehicles in their lane seemed to care that they were ascending alongside the central spire and electrical hub of Nos Astra, anyways.

The silence was broken by Shepard coughing. “So. Hang on a minute there, Zero, let me count where we are.” Zero obediently brought the skycar to a standstill as Shepard quickly added up the number of a windows beneath them. “Okay, bring us up twenty floors.”

They resumed their ascent, Shepard counting under her breath until she flung an arm out, whacking Zero in the chest, which she took as a signal to stop outside the nearest window.

“How are you going to get in? Do you have a glass cutter?” Zero asked as Shepard swung open the clamshell door.

Shepard laughed, thoroughly amused at the thought of using something as civilized as a glass cutter. “No, that’s not how I do things. Go in with a bang, I say.” She activated her tech armor, the energy encasing her in an orange holographic armor that covered the upper half of her body. “Tahirah, you might want to start heading to the bridge, I’m about to head in.”

Tahirah nodded, then spoke up upon realizing that Shepard couldn’t see the gesture. “Okay -- good luck, Daddy, be safe!”

Without any further preamble, Shepard lifted her heavy pistol and shot the windowpane, glass shattering with a loud crash. Shouts came from the various camera rooms, with several officers coming to examine the source of the disturbance.

Shepard lobbed a gas grenade, designed to disable targets without killing them, through the window. It detonated on impact, and the officers keeled over, asleep before they hit the floor.

It was pandemonium, and Shepard was pretty sure she saw one human calling for backup on an intercom. She cocked her gun, nailing the device with a single bullet, causing him to squeal and rendering the intercom inoperable.

Well, that one at least. She had to move quickly.

She jumped through the broken window, kicking out the remaining glass with her reinforced boots. She reached for the electromagnetic pulse bombs that were attached to her utility belt, but before she detonated one (thankfully), she saw the sign next to the elevator doors: Floor 31. She swore, shouting over her shoulder, “Wrong floor, move one up!”

“Did you just say ‘wrong floor’?” Tahirah asked, and Shepard grunted in assent. Tahirah gnawed her lower lip and loitered in the park until further notice.

Shepard didn’t have time to see whether Zero was obeying her command and flying up a level -- she whirled around and grabbed the police baton that was aimed at her head, twisting it out of the officer’s grip and punching him square in the face. He staggered backward, clutching his face as rivulets of blood streamed between his fingers, and Shepard put him out of his misery. She wrapped her arm around his neck in a chokehold, inducing syncope and letting him bonelessly slide to the floor.

The rest of the guards were more wary of approaching her after that, and for those who tried, she was able to subdue them via heavy melee. She could pick off most of the rest of them quickly enough through cryo blast, firing a mass of super-cooled subatomic particles from her omni-tool to snap freeze officers who looked like they'd be a problem.

They'd thaw out. Eventually.

She didn't have time to care about their fate at the moment, though -- she needed to get up a floor _now_ , and if a set of stairs existed, she couldn't see it from this vantage point.

That left her with only one way up.

Shepard glanced up at the screen that displayed which floor the elevator was currently on. The number was rapidly increasing.

She cracked her knuckles and wrenched the elevator doors open with brute force. If she peered down, she could see the elevator hurtling skyward. This could end badly.

“T,” she said, using the initial in case any stragglers overheard (she was pretty sure there were at least a few cowards hiding in the camera rooms; they had taken the position of lounging around and staring at cameras all night precisely to avoid getting shot at). “If this goes wrong, just remember that I love you, okay?”

“What?!” Tahirah exclaimed, frantic. “Daddy, don't do anything dangerous-- she disconnected,” she finished as the audio cut off.

Shepard switched off her visor and crouched into position, needing full concentration for this. As the elevator drew close, she braced herself and jumped, feet slamming onto the box with enough force to make her knees buckle.

The elevator stopped on the floor, leaving Shepard trapped above it in the shaft. She'd spent enough time in shafts in her military days to know that there ought to be a ladder nearby -- if the building was up to standard galactic code, at least. She activated her omni-tool’s flashlight, beaming the light around her until it landed on a metal ladder on the side of the shaft. She quickly latched onto it, but before she began climbing, first things first. She looked down at the top of the elevator box.

She had horrific visions of the elevator ascending again and squishing her against the building’s roof. Even if that didn't happen, she didn't want to make it to the next floor, only to have more people swarm out of the elevator when she was in the process of incapacitating those workers. As a precaution, she overloaded the power conduits on the top of the box.

That should buy her some time.

\---

Elsewhere, Tahirah was inconsolable. She wanted nothing more than to run into Lillen’s arms and bury her face in her chest, but the cameras were still active, and such familiarity didn't factor into the story they were fabricating. Instead, she wandered over to the bridge, as casually as she could manage, given the circumstances. She leaned against the railing opposite to Lil’s and looked down at the city that stretched below, and the river that was instrumental to their plan. She was far enough away from Lillen that they didn't look like they were together, but close enough that she could speak to her.

“I'm scared, Lil,” she said, voice small and tinny beneath the mask.

“Soothingly: Don't be scared. Your dad has survived stickier situations than this,” Lil said, the slats of her mouth moving almost imperceptibly.

“I know, but she's a lot older than she used to be. If something happens to her, I'll never be able to forgive myself for dragging her into this whole crazy scheme. Goddess, why did I waste so much time being mad at her these past few months?”

Lillen didn't respond immediately, grappling with her own urges to hold Tahirah and let her cry in her arms. “Comfortingly: Nothing is going to happen to her. And you had nothing to do with getting her involved, she volunteered of her own free will. Reasonably: It's not like you asked her to do any of this.”

Tahirah stared down below her, looking for all the world like she was considering whether or not to jump. “Yeah,” she finally said, but she didn’t sound entirely confident.

“In a sensible, calm manner: In any case, there’s nothing we can do now but wait. Let’s just keep an eye out. If the power and cameras go out, then we know she’s alive and succeeded.”

Tahirah wet her lips, nodding. “Okay,” she said, grateful that Lillen had her head on straight, because one of them needed to have their shit together right now, and she definitely did not. It was reassuring, knowing that Lillen was her rock of stability. “Okay,” she repeated.


	12. Chapter 12

In the elevator shaft, Shepard hung off the ladder, directly outside one of the four doors of floor 32. She snapped another gas grenade off of her belt, hefting its weight in her hand. She forced the door open and swung up onto the floor. She had the element of surprise, just for a few seconds, and she intended to use it to her advantage.

She threw the grenade through the glass observatory windows of the nearest camera room, immediately followed by an EMP bomb. Neutralize the occupants, then take out the devices. Her mission goal was simply to take out the cameras and electric grid on this floor and get the hell out as quick as she could, but there was no denying that that goal was easier to accomplish if she took out some of the enemies standing in her way.

She wasn’t as worried about disabling the cameras; the camera rooms were relatively easy to access with the EMP bombs, the electromagnetic pulse taking out all the electronic devices within range (she could see the fried cameras in the room she had bombed, their screens pitch black and inaccessible). The electric grid was more challenging to access.

Fortunately, she had the good luck to randomly pick the one of the four elevator doors that emerged closest to the door handily marked “Electrical Room.”

Shepard could bypass a locked door in her sleep. While using her omni-tool to do the dirty work, she kept a watchful eye over her shoulder. She wasn’t one to rely on her biotic abilities, but when her tech skills were otherwise occupied and she was forbidden from shooting people, launching biotic projectiles was the rational choice for crowd control.

Still, it wasn’t her preferred method. Shepard had struggled her entire life with accepting her biotic talents. She grew up on Earth in a climate that was intensely prejudiced against biotics. Her gang family, like so many humans in the mid-2100s, didn’t trust individuals with natural biotics (the temporary abilities induced by red sand were a different story), subscribing to the tall tales about biotics being capable of reading and controlling minds. Shepard had discovered her biotics in the worst way possible, an accident that left one person dead and turned her gang against her, and she had spent a long time trying to suppress her abilities.

When she enlisted in the military, partly to escape life on the streets and partly to nullify the underage criminal charges she had racked up, and was drafted into the Alliance’s Sentinel Corps, she had to face the facts of her powers. To this day, she still didn’t consider herself a true biotic and often disparaged them (“ _Biotics_ ,” she frequently muttered with a roll of her eyes, prompting anyone in the vicinity to point out that she was shit-talking herself). As a sentinel, she had been forced to take a biotic training program, which had developed her strength, but she still lacked finesse.

But she didn’t need to be a great shot, she just needed to keep the guards at bay long enough to hack her way into the room that housed the electric grid for the floor’s district sector. The lock clicked, and she stopped hurling wild blasts of biotic energy long enough to yank open the door. She nearly rushed inside, but experience told her that cornering herself was not a good idea. Instead, she tossed in another EMP bomb and dodge rolled out of the way of a guard who tried to take advantage of her momentary hesitation.

Shepard stumbled getting back on her feet -- she kept in shape and visited the Armax Arena every time she went to the Citadel, but it had still been a long time since she needed to dodge like that. There was no way of knowing whether or not the power had gone out, and she regretted disconnecting her connection with Tahirah. Still, she had to keep moving--she circled the hallway, knocking over anyone who dared stand in her way and flash-freezing others in between launching grenades in the camera rooms.

With one station left to deactivate, she reached for her utility belt, only to realize that she was out of EMP bombs. She very nearly swore out loud, but she thought quickly on her feet. She kicked in the glass of the observatory window and resorted to her standard course of action: overload. She triggered a power surge in the last camera room, the electrical pulse spreading across the monitors and shutting them down.

And now she needed to get the hell out of there.

Shepard sprinted to the window that she _thought_ was directly above the window she had entered on floor 31. She purged the protective Foucault currents that reinforced her armor, sending the charge to her gauntlets. With the added fortification, she punched the window, shattering the glass into pieces. She stuck her head out the window, but Zero wasn’t parked there. If she craned her neck, she could the skycar several feet away. _Fucking circular buildings_ , she thought to herself; it was too easy to get turned around and lose track of which side of the building you were on. With no better way to alert Zero to her presence (at least, none that she could think of in the heat of the moment), she cocked her gun and shot the air above the skycar.

Shepard glanced back over her shoulder, just in time to see another swarm of guards descending on her. She detonated her tech armor, the pulse of energy blasting the officers off their feet. “Move!” she roared out the window. While she didn’t have enough time to stack her fortification barriers onto the armor for twice the protection, she immediately used her omni-tool to reactivate the holographic armor. It wasn’t purely a defensive maneuver; her tech armor was specially upgraded to boost her melee capabilities, and she needed that now.

 _Who the_ fuck _hired a krogan for this position_ , she thought to herself. He was only staggered by the detonation, and once he shook it off, he came charging directly at her. She grappled with him, somehow managing to hold her own against the 350 pound krogan (she credited this achievement with over 150 years of a robust friendship with her drinking buddies, Wrex and Grunt).

“I’m here!” a voice shouted from behind her, and Shepard quickly ran through her options. She didn’t think she had enough juice left in her to blast the krogan away from her with biotics, but she had strapped a lift grenade around her upper arm. She just needed to distract the krogan long enough to get to it. She resorted to what she deemed the logical course of action and jerked her head back to headbutt him in the neck.

Caught off guard, the krogan spluttered. He ducked his head to shake off the blow, letting go of her arm and enabling to grab the grenade and jam it in the gap between his hump and his crest. Shepard detonated the grenade, sending him flying into the air, and bolted. The skycar hovered directly in front of the window, door wide open and Zero prepared to slam on the gas.

Shepard leaped out of the window and into the shuttle, scrabbling into the seat with no grace whatsoever. “Go, go, go, go!” she yelled, and Zero didn’t need to be told twice. She pulled away, closing the door mid-transit.

“You shot at me!” she yelled at Shepard, her shock and disbelief clearly evident.

“No!” Shepard protested. “I shot _above_ you, there’s a difference! If I shot _at_ you, I wouldn’t have missed. I’m a very good shot.”

“That’s reassuring!” Zero’s voice was shrill, rattled by the night’s adventures.

“It got your attention, didn’t it? Just floor it, we need to get the hell out of here and get this shit--” she gestured at the both of them generally, indicating the burqa and suit of armor “--off before anyone recognizes us.”

\---

Staring down at the river made Tahirah dizzy. The sheer height of the city was staggering, and she wasn’t even on the top level! She was about to step back when she noticed something: the lights on the level furthest below her winking out. Relief overwhelmed her -- her father was alive, and kicking ass, apparently. Darkness flew up the district, levels going pitch black one after another until all at once, the bridge lights turned off.

“Now, Lil!” she cried, stepping back from the railing and making a show of looking around herself in apparent confusion.

“Urgently: Wait!” Tahirah froze while reaching for her mask. “The cameras.” Without moving her head, she flicked her eyes up to the nearest camera, where the blue power light was still present.

Tahirah wrung her hands before reaching for the helmet again, pretending as if she was still considering whether or not to jump. She was stalling for time, praying that Shepard would knock out the cameras soon, and her prayers were answered. The camera lights vanished with a dying hum, and with a questioning lilt, she shouted, “Now?”

Lillen didn’t answer verbally, simply springing into action. With a wave of her omni-tool, she adjusted Tahirah’s own omni-tool’s power cells to throw a tactical cloak over her, rendering her invisible.

Tahirah quickly stripped out of the enviro suit, leaving it and the broken ankle monitor piled next to the railing. She placed the orange helmet on top of the heap, adjusting its LED lights to display a sad-faced emoticon. A momentary twinge of pride and relief passed over her. The mask was Zero’s trademark, but it was associated with all the worst parts of her life. Leaving it behind had to be immensely liberating for Zero, and it made Tahirah feel like she was abandoning all the negativity T’Lani had instilled in her own life.

Lillen topped off the cloak so that she could stay unseen a while longer, and Tahirah brushed her invisible fingers against her in farewell. “Good luck,” she whispered, and ran off the bridge. Behind her, the emergency lights that lined the bridge hummed to life, having needed a few moments to react to the sudden loss of power.

She glanced over her shoulder. It was just enough light to see Lillen, who she thought looked positively ethereal in the blue luminescence. She knew what was going to happen next: having “heard a splash” in the dark and seeing the evidence left behind, Lillen was going to call the police and relay her story. As she vanished into the night, she could hear the sound of Lillen on her omni-tool.

“Frantically: Hello, police? I… I’m pretty sure someone just jumped off the bridge behind me. In a worried panic: I should have seen them or heard them, but the power just went out and I got so turned around. Anxious guilt: I could have stopped them, I thought it was suspicious, the way they were loitering around, but...”

A performance second only to the elcor production of _Hamlet_. Tahirah smiled and ducked around the corner, escaping the scene of the crime just as the tactical cloak wore off.

\---

The last time Shepard went on such a wild car ride in Nos Astra, she was chasing after a rogue Spectre. This time, she _was_ the rogue Spectre.

Well. Ex-Spectre, anyway, she had retired that title in favor of a hard- earned, comfortable life with her family and friends a long time ago. This adventure made her realize that she did actually miss the hectic lifestyle of life-threatening, daring escapades -- but she was still more than ready to get home to Liara. She wanted to crash on her couch, bondmate leaning on her shoulder and space cat in her lap, and just stare at her personal vid screen.

She just needed to get back in one piece, without ending up in jail.

“There!” she said, pointing at the patch of city that was pitch black. “Before they repair the damage or get backups working.”

Zero steered them down a few levels, purposefully stopping on a different level than her apartment to avoid garnering suspicion. They careened to a stop in a darkened alley, just wide enough to fit. Between the hood of the skycar and the alley’s back wall, Zero whipped off the burqa and Shepard tugged off her armor. They stuffed it into Shepard’s duffel bag, clambered over the car, and hightailed it out of there.

They slowed down when they reached a sector that was still lit and had active cameras. Shepard regulated her breathing, called for a cab, and they shared a quiet and completely unsuspicious ride back to Zero’s apartment.

\---

Tahirah was sincerely glad that Zero’s place was in a different sector than the one that they had sabotaged, because running in the dark was dangerous and more than a little frightening. When she reached the next patch of lighted streets, she could slow down and actually see where she was going.

She arrived at Zero’s barefoot, dirt and pebbles clinging to the soles of her feet, and she was strongly reminded of that one day, a few months ago, when she arrived at her apartment for the first time. She knocked on the apartment door and, finding it unlocked, slid it open. Zero was laying flat on the floor of her living area, whIle Shepard paced circles around the kitchen table.

When the street lights and cameras died, she knew that Shepard had to have been safe. But after those parting words, she had been worried sick anyway. “Daddy!” she cried, running into her father’s arms.

“Sorry if I scared you,” Shepard said, hugging her tight.

“You _did_ scare me! Goddess, I was so worried that you were going to get yourself killed...” Tears were welling up in her eyes now. She didn’t want to think about losing her, especially not because of something that she had dragged Shepard into.

“It’s okay, I’m okay, don’t worry.”

“I’m so sorry I’ve been giving you the silent treatment. I couldn’t forgive myself if you had died because of me, and I spent all that time being mad at you,” she said, voice sounding warbly.

“Hey, come on, it takes more than a little breaking and entering to kill me. And I kind of deserved the silent treatment, anyway.”

Tahirah couldn’t argue that point, at least. “Well, I’m not going to let it happen again. I love you so much, Daddy, I hate fighting with you.”

“I love you too, baby girl,” Shepard replied, giving her one last squeeze.

“Anyways...” Tahirah stepped away and scrubbed her eyes. “Did everything go okay on your end? Zero, are you okay?” she asked, eyeing the quarian, who was still stretched out on the floor.

"I almost died," Zero said, staring at the ceiling in stunned disbelief.

"What?" Tahirah looked back and forth between them in search if an explanation.

"She didn't almost die, she's being melodramatic," Shepard informed her. "Our windows got mixed up, and I shot over the skycar to get her attention."

"Oh! Then yeah, you didn't almost die," Tahirah told Zero. "Not if that was on purpose. My dad wouldn't have hit you, she's a very good shot."

Shepard's face split into a shit-eating grin, as if to say, _See? I told you._

"Bosh'tet," Zero said, but even she had to laugh. She rolled over and climbed to her feet. "But enough about us-- what happened with you guys? You're not wearing the suit, does that mean you pulled it off? Where's Lil?"

Tahirah grinned, the exhilaration of the night catching up to her. "Yeah, we did. Lil phoned in it and reported it, and I think she's still talking to the authorities about it. We won't know for sure until she gets back here, but as far as I know, the old you is dead. Suit's there, you're on camera looking hesitantly over the railing, and the cameras cut out just at the right time."

Zero exhaled, practically melting with relief.

“Just lay low for a week or two so no one gets suspicious at the sight of a new quarian immediately appearing,” Tahirah continued.

“Lay low? You mean, stay at home and not work my ass off for the first time in years? I can _sleep_? Yeah, i think I can do that.” Zero shook her head in disbelief. _“_ Oh, Tahirah, _thank you._ Keelah, I could kiss you, I'm so happy right now…”

“Beseechingly: Please don't.”

Tahirah whirled around to find Lillen standing in the doorway. “Lil!” she cried, flinging her arms around the elcor’s bicep. Lillen scooped her up in one massive palm, causing her to squeal in surprise, and lifted her up so she could throw herself onto her proper.

Tahirah dissolved into euphoric giggles, any sense of poise she possessed flung to the wind. They both remembered that they weren’t alone at the same time, and Lillen set her down on the floor while Tahirah cleared her throat, pressing her hands to her warm cheeks. “I mean… that went great. You were _so_ good, I got so emotional listening to you… they didn’t suspect you of foul play or anything, right?”

“Reassuring: No, they didn’t. Tactfully: And no offense meant to Zero, but I was thinking about losing you.”

“None taken,” Zero piped up. Her hands were clasped in giddy joy, waiting for this romance to play out. Tahirah’s cheeks burned even hotter.

“Well,” she said, struggling to rearrange her scrambled brain to form coherent sentences. “I couldn’t imagine losing you, either.”

Lillen reached her arm up, tracing a finger along the curve of Tahirah’s jaw.

Tahirah grabbed the finger and kissed it, nuzzling it against her cheek.

“Cautiously: I’ve been thinking, and...” She paused, and Tahirah waited on tenterhooks for her to finish the sentence. “I think I would like to go on that date.”

“Yes!” Tahirah bounced on the balls of her feet, clapping her hands in sheer, unbridled glee.

“Okay, that’s pretty cute,” Shepard said, butting into the conversation with all of her usual grace. “Treat my girl right, okay?” she said, pointing at Lillen.

“With the utmost seriousness: I will.”

“For what it’s worth, seeing that just now, you make a cute couple.” Shepard hugged her daughter, whispering into her ear, “I see what you mean now. And I see how happy she makes you. I’m sorry for being a dick.”

Tahirah hugged her back. “It’s okay, Daddy,” she said, closing her eyes. She helped her friend escape a life of indentured servitude, she pulled off the greatest and most difficult garment she had ever made, she finally got a date with her crush, and her father approved of it.

Life was good.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter! Thank you for reading!!

Tahirah woke up the next morning feeling more energized than ever. As usual, she was having lunch with Lillen -- except it was an actual lunch _date_ this time, with the two of them eating at a restaurant instead of their usual oasis.

She was looking forward to it immensely, but first she had one last thing to take care of. She pulled out the business card Callista al-Jilani had sent her after their encounter, hoping for a more thorough interview.

She called the number, fanning herself with the card. “Callista?” she said once the reporter answered. “Meet me outside T’Lani headquarters as soon as you can. Have I got a story for you.”

\---

“This better be good, Ms. Shepard-T’Soni,” Callista warned her when she approached her outside of the T’Lani building half an hour later. “You’re taking me away from an article on a vorcha art showcase.”

Tahirah sincerely doubted that any of the pieces in that installation were actually created by vorcha, but she chose not to comment. “It is,” she said instead. “A quarian died last night.”

Callista drummed her long, talon-like fingernails against the datapad she used to take notes. “And why are our readers supposed to care about some suit rat who died? People die every day; this isn’t exactly breaking news.”

“No,” Tahirah admitted, “but she wasn't just any old quarian. She was my good friend -- and Nataliya T’Lani’s personal slave.”

 _That_ got Callista’s attention. “But slavery --excuse me, indentured servitude-- has been illegal on Illium for decades!” Her fingers flew across the keys of her datapad, no doubt penning some sensational headline to splash across the tabloids.

“I _know_. But T’Lani basically forced my friend into slavery, with the promise that she would ruin her life otherwise. And you know what she did? She fucking killed herself.” Or she would have, rather, if Tahirah hadn’t swept into her life and changed that trajectory.

Callista was practically salivating with excitement over having the scoop of the century. It was a little grotesque, in Tahirah’s opinion, considering they were talking about a suicide. “That is horrible,” she said, in far too fascinated a voice for her to really mean it. “Tell me about this quarian.”

Tahirah took a deep breath.

“Her name was Sira.” It was similar enough to Zero’s name just in case T’Lani vaguely recalled her name, as miniscule as that chance was. “I never knew her clan name or the ship she was from, since she was exiled and preferred not to talk about it. But she was smart and witty and deserved so much more than the end she met.” Tahirah was surprised to find that tears sprang to her eyes; she hadn't expected to get emotional when she was acting, but talking about Zero and thinking about actually losing her was getting her all choked up.

A long, stretch skycar pulled up in front of them, stopping directly in front of the glass doors of the building. The chauffeur quickly hurried around to the other side of the skycar to swing open the door and offer a hand to its passenger. Nataliya T’Lani stepped out, all long legs and haughty poise. Tahirah was momentarily jealous of her gold double mod eyeliner and bedazzled lips, but she knew that underneath those jewels and the gold henna swirls that spiraled down her cheekbones lay an ugly, black-hearted monster. And that made her seem so much less attractive in Tahirah’s eyes.

Seeing her lit a fire in the pit of her stomach. “Hey!” she shouted, and T’Lani turned to fixate her with a look of boredom and contempt.

“You again,” she said. “Don’t you have some, I don’t know, pole to be hanging off somewhere?”

Tahirah wasn’t going to dignify that with a response. “I’m not going to dignify that with a response,” she said. “You killed my friend.”

Just for a split second, T’Lani looked rattled. “I beg your pardon?” she asked, regathering her poise.

“You might as well have. Remember your quarian slave? She killed herself last night. You might as well have wrapped her in a burial robe yourself -- you did this to her, you worked her to the bone -- _illegally_ , I might add-- and she couldn’t take it anymore. Thanks to you, I lost my best friend, you heartless bitch.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” T’Lani pulled a pair of mirrored sunglasses out of her purse and slipped them on. She turned to the front doors of her building and unlocked it.

“No?” Tahirah activated her omni-tool and pulled up the photo Zero had sent her of her suicide note last night. “So if we went up to your workroom right now, we _wouldn’t_ find this on the door? I know you know exactly who I’m talking about. Your ‘unpaid intern’?” She used finger quotes and briefly thought about how proud they would make Zero. “Don’t try to tell me she was an unpaid intern, she did _all_ of your dirty work until all hours of the night.”

“Like I said,” T’Lani said, voice cool but terse, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She strode into the lobby of the building, with Tahirah jogging behind to keep up with her long strides. Callista was tagging along, still typing furiously into her datapad while her recently conjured drone filmed everything.

The ride up to the workroom was awkward, with Tahirah glaring daggers at the back of T’Lani’s head and Callista staring wild-eyed at the both of them, waiting for the next exciting development.

T’Lani was the first to stalk out of the elevator, with Tahirah hot on her heels. She didn’t want T’Lani to hide any evidence of Zero’s suicide note before she got to see it.

“See!” she burst out, pointing to the note taped to the workroom door. She ran ahead to rip it off and wave it in her face.

T’Lani pushed the piece of paper aside, so Tahirah gave it to Callista instead. T’Lani was more interested in what lay beyond the door. She yanked the door open to find her workroom in shambles. All the outfits that were lined up for Nos Astra Fashion Week were ruined beyond repair (and okay, maybe it did physically pain Tahirah a little, because she had pulled an all-nighter working on some of these pieces, and she _did_ hate seeing fashion ruined -- but at the same time, she felt a vindictive sense of justice, knowing that T’Lani wouldn’t be profiting off of their blood, sweat, and tears).

“She slashed everything,” T’Lani said, more to herself than anyone who was present. “That selfish little--”

Tahirah’s eyes widened at the _very_ vulgar word that left her lips, a derogatory term for the body part that asari colloquially referred to as their azure. Not classy.

“She?” Callista jumped on the phrase. “So you _did_ have an illegal quarian slave?”

“No comment,” T’Lani snarled as she stomped into the workroom, stiletto heels all but punching holes in the flooring.

“Which means yes,” Tahirah helpfully added.

T’Lani began snatching up scraps of fabric, the drone close behind her in search of a reaction shot.

“Get that camera out of my face!” T’Lani screeched, swatting at the holographic robot that zoomed in on her face for a closeup.

Tahirah turned away to hide the grin that threatened to consume her face. As she walked away, she could hear Callista’s voice behind her.

“Tell me, Ms. T’Lani, how does it feel to know that you indirectly contributed to the death of someone who was in your employ? Can I even use that word, ‘employ’? Memo to self: edit this later...”

\---

Tahirah was still smiling as she headed to her date with Lillen. Perhaps it spoke to her character that she was so pleased at fucking over T’Lani (and perhaps she was more like her father than she realized), but frankly, she didn’t care. The designer did some despicable things and deserved to be exposed for that, whether or not it was on false pretenses. She might as well _have_ killed Zero with her actions; without Tahirah’s intervention, she would have destroyed Zero’s life beyond repair.

 _Goddess, that felt good_.

Her mood only improved as she got closer to seeing Lillen. They had arranged to meet up at a restaurant near work, a quiet cafe that held a certain retro charm to it. Tahirah had always thought it looked romantic, with its cozy outdoor tables and hanging electric candles, and she was thrilled to be having their first date there.

As she grew closer to her work building, she noticed a commotion outside. A police skycar was parked outside, and for a fleeting moment of terror, she thought that their escapade had been found out.

A group of salarians who had stopped to watch the show moved, and Tahirah breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that someone was getting arrested, and it wasn’t any of her co-conspirators.

Then she got a closer look at who exactly was involved.

“Oh my goddess,” she said. Johanis had a man subdued, hands wrapped behind him in a pair of omni-cuffs. She recognized that face, even with it pressed against the wall of the building. How could she forget it, after seeing it multiple times a week at Afterlife for several years?

“ _You_ ,” she said, scarcely believing she was actually looking at the sleazeball whom she had flipped off on her last day on Omega.

“Do you know this man, ma’am?” Johanis asked. “He attempted to break into your studio again and by his own admission, he was responsible for the first assault, and something about sabotaging a show, if that means anything to you.”

“Unfortunately, I do,” she replied. “Is this because I told you where you could stick it?” she asked him. “Because you deserved that, you were so inappropriate to everyone who worked at that club. Did you seriously follow me halfway across the galaxy to get back at me? Because that is --sorry about my language, officer-- pretty fucking sad and more than a little creepy.”

The oily-haired man scowled at her. “Bitch,” he snapped. He summoned up a wad of saliva and spat on her, causing the crowd of passersby to riot and Johanis to violently yank him away from the wall and force him into the squad car.

Tahirah calmly wiped the spit off of her cheek. She didn’t care -- it didn’t get on her dress and honestly, that was all that mattered. If it _had_ gotten on her dress, then she would be livid. As it was, she was just relieved to find out who had caused such havoc in her life.

“I am so sorry about that, ma’am,” Johanis apologized once her culprit was locked inside the skycar. She produced a handkerchief from her back pocket and handed it to Tahirah, who gratefully wiped off her fingers and cheek.

She waved off the apology. “It’s not your fault! I’m just so glad you caught him, you have _no_ idea how much of a relief that is to me. Goddess. Today is a good day.”

Johanis tipped her chin. “All in a day’s work. I’m afraid I need to get going, though. I’ll bring this pig down to the station, and we’ll make sure he won’t trouble you again. Then I’m off to security.” She shook her head. “Someone managed to break in last night. I’m sure you’ve heard about the power going out last night, if it didn’t affect you directly. We’re trying to sleuth out the motive behind the attack, and we think it may be connected to a robbery that occurred last night when the cameras were down. Either way, there’s a lot of cleanup to be done.”

Tahirah widened her eyes in the perfect picture of innocence. “Wow,” she said. “Whoever did that sounds like a real nutjob.” She could almost hear her father’s half-hearted protest of _hey!_ in her head. “I won’t keep you any longer then -- thanks again, officer, you’re an absolute doll, and good luck with all that drama!”

Johanis nodded and bid farewell, and Tahirah watched as she drove away. She could see the man glaring out the back window of the skycar, and she allowed herself the satisfaction of one last “fuck you” hand gesture.

Tahirah exhaled, taking a moment to recover as the crowd around her dispersed.. Everything was falling in place for her -- she didn’t have to worry about her name being slandered further, she’d exposed Nataliya T’Lani for the terrible person she was, and most importantly, she looked damn good for her long anticipated date. She opted for a simple halter silhouette, with a keyhole-accented bodice, a low, plunging back, and a figure hugging skirt. She wore it well, if she did say so herself.

As she was admiring her own sense of fashion, her omni-tool buzzed with an incoming call, and she glanced at the caller’s ID before answering. “Zero?” she said. “Is everything okay? You’re staying inside, right?”

“I am. I slept until 9 A.M., and I plan on taking a nap after this. I just -- I can’t believe I have this luxury right now, I owe you the world.”

Tahirah shushed her. “Don’t even mention it, I’m just glad you’re out of that horrible situation.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Zero still sounded like she couldn’t quite believe that this was happening to her. “But I was just calling because I wanted to tell you -- my roommate _loves_ my new suit and thinks you did an amazing job renovating it.”

“Oh yeah?” Tahirah was touched. While she’d made the occasional holiday gift for friends and family, this was her first time making a requested garment for an actual client. She wasn’t used to having people wear her stuff in public and get compliments on it. “That is so sweet, please thank her for me!”

“And...” Zero paused for dramatic effect. “She wants to know if you’ll mod a suit for her so the next time she visits Irune, she can come back in something more unique. She’s willing to pay mad creds for it too.”

Tahirah couldn’t help but squeal in delight. “Yes!” she replied, over the moon with joy. “I mean, I’d have to do some serious thinking about how to go about it, since it’s a totally different medium and a _completely_ different silhouette, but yes! I would _love_ to try that,” she gushed. “Maybe I  can come over on Saturday and talk with her about the direction she wants to go in?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Zero said, a smile in her voice.

“Then it’s a date.” Tahirah grinned as she added, “And now I need to go to my _actual_ date -- I’ll call you afterwards and tell you how it went, okay?”

“Good luck! Not that you need it -- go woo your girlfriend!”

Tahirah stepped off an escalator and caught sight of Lillen seated at a table outside the restaurant. She waved enthusiastically at her, and Lillen lifted a hand in greeting. “I will!” she said into the omni-tool. “Bye!” She disconnected the call and hurried over to her date.

“Sorry I’m late,” she apologized, sitting down across from Lillen. “I was chewing T’Lani out for being a horrible slave owner, and wow, did that feel good.”

“Humorous agreement: She had it coming. Sincere compliment: You look beautiful today.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Tahirah said, touching her breastbone in a display of modesty. “You do too,” she added, and it was an equally sincere statement. It wasn't often that she saw Lillen out of her coveralls, and she liked this new look. The denim cargos and utility belt were replaced with more form fitting black pants. The fabric stretched over her back, but rather than transforming into overall straps, it was weighed down by two ornate hoops that hung over her shoulders. It was a very traditional style, one favored by many elcor, but the heavy metal rings were more decorative than any others Tahirah had ever seen. She was reminded of the fancy hoop earrings that humans sometimes wore on their earlobes. The jewelry theme was reflected in the chunky silver bangles she wore around her wrists, and the more delicate chains wrapped around her right bicep. Tahirah was pleased to see that the ribbon she had made her was still on her other arm, providing a nice splash of color to the outfit.

“You’ve been hiding things from me. I didn’t know that you knew how to dress yourself so nicely,” she teased.

“Drolly: Damn it. The secret’s out.”

Tahirah laughed, just as a waitress came out to take their drink orders. They both ordered variations on flavored lemonades, and Tahirah turned back to Lillen. “T’Lani isn’t the reason why I’m late, though. Remember that mystery asshole who ruined my fashion show and destroyed my studio?”

“Vengefully: Yes.”

Tahirah cracked a grin. It was nice to know that Lillen was protective of her. “Easy there, killer. They caught him.”

“Pleased surprise: That’s great news, who was it? Do you know him?”

“Unfortunately.” Tahirah accepted her drink from the waitress and sipped it before continuing, leaving Lillen on the edge of her seat. “When I was still a dancer on Omega, I had this one really awful, sleazy douchebag of a customer. He always said really inappropriate things, you know the type.”

Lillen nodded. “Sagely: Men.”

“Tell me about it. I flipped him off on my last day, and _apparently_ I hurt him enough that he decided to follow me halfway across the galaxy, share all the creepy candids he took of me at Afterlife, and try to ruin my life.”

“Mildly:  That seems like a slight overreaction.”

“Just a slight one, yeah. But Officer Johanis caught him, and that should be the end of that. I can finally move on and get back to doing what I love: fashion.”

“Curiously: Where are you going to go from here? Are you going to go back to making couture dresses?” Lillen asked.

“No,” Tahirah said thoughtfully, stirring her drink with her straw as she recalled her conversation with Zero earlier. “You know what… I think I want to help the little people. All the people that get shat on by pretentious assholes like T’Lani.” Lillen gave a soft huff of amusement, and Tahirah grinned at her. “Modding enviro suits, making one of a kind clothes that disadvantaged people can afford, things like that. I’ll have to give it some more thought. Maybe I’ll even branch out into accessories or footwear. Did I ever tell you the story of my first day in Nos Astra?” she asked, leaning her elbows against the table. “Because let me tell you, did I discover a need for heels that you can run in, and not those dumpy jogging heels you see in stores…”


End file.
